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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23562442">Epic IV</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/riptheh/pseuds/riptheh'>riptheh</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who, Doctor Who &amp; Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Dark, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, NOT A HAPPY ENDING BE WARNED, Orpheus and Eurydice Retelling, Thoschei, also inspired by hadestown, basically i took the myth and set it in doctor who because why not</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:47:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>26,683</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23562442</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/riptheh/pseuds/riptheh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Master is caught and sent to the worst prison, inside the universe or out, the Doctor has a choice to make. Let him stay there, or go get him out?</p>
<p>Of course, it's not really a choice at all.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Thirteenth Doctor &amp; The Master (Dhawan), Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Epic IV</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So this is a semi repost of a fic I started to upload chapter by chapter, had a bout of low self esteem, and deleted (rip). However, it's been fully written and sitting around in my files, so I thought I'd upload it as one chapter so as not to make people sit through having to wait for each chapter again.</p>
<p>Just a warning, in case you missed the tag: this does not have a happy ending. Read at your own risk.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Doctor?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At Yaz’s soft tones, the Doctor froze. Bent over the console, two fingers twitching to turn a dial. She didn’t look up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t tell me you’ve been standing there twenty minutes again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yaz laughed, and the Doctor’s shoulders slumped in relief. “No, not this time. Mind, that last one wasn’t the only time we caught you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmm.” The Doctor grimaced and looked up, fingers drifting from the dial. “Sorry. Get caught up in my—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Search?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor paused, leveling her with an even gaze. In the quiet, only the low hum of the TARDIS could be heard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Repairs.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yaz threw her a look that told her she didn’t believe that for one instant. Still, she didn’t press. She only hovered, hands twisted together uncertainly, looking on the verge of a question the Doctor probably didn’t want to answer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right.” Her eyes darted to the controls, once, then back to the Doctor. “Actually, that’s what I wanted to ask you about. Er—not the repairs. The Master.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor tried not to hunch instinctively, and nearly managed it. So physical, this body—spilling her reactions all over the place. She missed a stern face and eyebrows bushy enough to frighten. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about him?” Even her words were too careful, but she daren’t tip in the opposite direction. Rudeness was didn’t endear her to her friends, she’d realized only too late.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Besides, she was sick of their hurt looks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yaz didn’t look hurt, at least. In fact, she appeared entirely taken aback that the Doctor had decided to answer at all. Her hands twisted tighter. “I—uh, wanted to know about him. Or not—” she added hastily, as if she could see the ‘it’s personal’ rising to the Doctor’s tongue— “not about him, exactly. More like, uh, why we only knew about him now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even worse. The Doctor could already feel her nose scrunching, all the reluctance out plain upon her face, backpedaling clear as day. She already knew what she was going to say, and she knew just as well that Yaz wouldn’t like it. Because that wasn’t the question, was it? The question was—</span>
  <em>
    <span>why didn’t you tell us</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And the Doctor had no ready answer for that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, she started, careful as a soldier picking over a minefield. “Well, see, the thing is—he was supposed to be dead—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?” Yaz’s brow wrinkled in confused, then she quickly shook her head, as if wiping that thought away. “Okay, wait—putting that one to the side for now. I mean, if he’s so bad, why didn’t we hear about him until now? Shouldn’t he be, I dunno, famous?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Famous?” The Doctor’s mouth fell open. Quickly, she snapped it shut, and tamped down a surge of relief. “Wait—as in infamous?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yaz nodded. “Yeah. It’s just—we’ve been all over the universe. And we hear all sorts of things. I think I’ve even heard a bit about the Daleks, here and there, you know? Stories and things. But I’d never heard about the Master until now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I—” There were plenty of reasons for that, the Doctor thought. She went for the easiest one. “Well, honestly? He’s just a bit more subtle than the Daleks. Doesn’t like to waltz in, but prefers to manipulate behind the scenes. Of course, there have been some things—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Most of which had been wiped from history thanks to the Time War. She decided not to mention this. “—but for the most part, he just goes by different names. Plays different roles. Not to mention, he can change his face too. He was a woman, the last time around, and went by a different name.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” It was the last one, oddly enough, that cleared the confusion on Yaz’s face. Or perhaps, that was just typical. Humans and their outdated gender roles—they’d slap a gender binary on anything if given half the chance. “That makes sense, actually.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep. It’s the gender that trips you up, eh?” She tapped the side of her head to make the point, only to sigh as Yaz’s confusion deepened. “Never mind. Anyway, I’ve got to get back to the—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Search.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Repairs.” She drummed her fingers against the console, both to drown out the TARDIS’s disapproving hum at her thoughts, and to send Yaz a pointed message. “You know. Loads to get done.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, sure.” Yaz smiled, a relieved sort of smile, which made the Doctor wonder of the conversation had been as nervewracking for Yaz as it had been for her. A strange thought, but not one she could rule out, she realized with an insistent pang of guilt. Then again, it had been a strange conversation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yaz?” She caught her just as Yaz turned to go, one foot already up the stairs. Yaz paused, then turned back around, curious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why’d you ask, anyway?” The Doctor leaned against the console, just to give the illusion of nonchalance. As if she wasn’t, all of a sudden, rather curious. “I mean, what brought it up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh? Oh. Well—” Yaz turned fully to face her, lip caught in her teeth. She looked very much as if she wanted to escape. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Was this what she was to her friends now? the Doctor wondered. An alarm to be set off, a wire to be tripped? Someone to tiptoe around, rather than talk to?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just heard someone mention him, at the last planet,” she said. Then, her face screwed up. “And at the one before that, come to think of it. And, I dunno—it just got me thinking.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” The Doctor nodded, lips pressed tightly together. All of a sudden, she couldn’t quite speak, and she wasn’t sure why. Because that meant nothing. Nothing at all. Probably just coincidence, if she was being honest with herself. The fam had grown familiar with the Master, so of course they would notice his name being tossed about.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Except…even the Doctor hadn’t heard his name tossed about. Not since Missy, and not since the Cybermen. Not since she had disappeared. Even when he’d come back, she’d heard nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But if now…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Perhaps, the Doctor thought, it was time to start asking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>—————</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Same quadrant, same planet. The Doctor dumped the fam off at an open air marketplace with all the good cheer she could manage, and blustered right through their probing questions and disapproving glances.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But we’ve already been here—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is this because you want to search for—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, and I just forgot my wallet!” she called over her shoulder, then turned and dove into the crowd with such enthusiasm that she nearly didn’t hear the disgruntled whispers that followed. She shook them off like raindrops and continued on her way, mindful of the stares that followed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She knew what they were seeing—or rather, what they were sensing. The locals of this particular planet happened to run in temporal circles, one of the few time-sensitive races left scrabbling over what remained of the universe in the wake of the Time War. The Doctor didn’t particularly like them, but she knew that they would respect her for what she was. Not to mention, time-sensitive races liked to keep track of what was happening in the universe, both backwards and forwards. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which meant that if there was news to be found, here she would find it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She found a likely looking pub and slid inside, making her way immediately to the bar. There were few empty seats, but she managed to scare off a fellow who looked like he was leaving anyways, and thumped onto a barstool, then ordered a drink. The bartender delivered it with a wary eye, which swept knowingly over her clothes before he detached the drink from his clawed fingers, sending it clattering atop the wooden bar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks.” The Doctor wrinkled her nose as some of it slopped over, then reached out to wrap two hands around it and lifted it up to take a sip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t until she set it down that she realized she was being watched.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a subtle thing, so inconspicuous as to be entirely noticeable. Not an open stare, nor a loud whisper. Just dozens of eyes planted on her back, the quietest murmur of unease running throughout the place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They didn’t even say her name. Then, they didn’t have to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor slowly uncurled her hands from her drink, then, with two hands gripping the edge of the bar, slowly leaned back just far enough to catch an eye. Just one—that of the man sitting one barstool down, watching her with open and naked interest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled, slow and even. “Something on my face?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment, he didn’t answer. He appeared to be thinking of something to say. His eye darted over her face, uncertain—or possibly scared—then he gulped, a lump moving down his throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, in a squeak that belied his rather formidable form, he said, “You shouldn’t be here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ignorance, the Doctor thought, was always best in situations like this. It was often the most accurate thing she could dredge up. “Sorry, why’s that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man swallowed again. “This—this quadrant of the universe is free. It’s supposed to be free. Your kind don’t patrol here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My kind?” The Doctor’s smile grew, all teeth and not at all friendly. “You’ll have to enlighten me. I’m not sure I know what you mean by </span>
  <em>
    <span>my kind</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t be daft,” the man shot back with surprising bravery. His eye moved up and down her form, and his lip twisted. “You know exactly what you are. Everybody knows what you are.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor’s grin stretched tighter. “Please elaborate.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a long moment, the man didn’t reply. He only eyed her, looking as if he couldn’t decide whether to continue speaking or make a run for it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A Time Lord,” he whispered after several long moments. “You’re a Time Lord.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He caught his breath immediately, as if waiting for her to strike her down where he sat. She didn’t particularly blame him. The Time Lords were not known for their generosity, or indeed, their soft hearts. They didn’t particularly value the idea of sanctity of life, either. At least, not in the lesser species. They’d been plenty worried about preserving their own.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Got me,” she said. Then she forced her grin lighthearted, almost as if she were teasing. She wasn’t entirely sure the man bought it. “But you don’t have to worry. There aren’t any Time Lords left. Well, except for me. But I barely count. I mean, look at me!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She spread her arms wide, gesturing towards herself. The man only looked her up and down once. It didn’t seem to put him at ease.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t be here,” he repeated, but his voice was quivering and she knew immediately that he didn’t have any say in the matter. Of course he didn’t. The Time Lords went where they wanted and did what they wanted, when they bothered to do anything at all, which was rarely. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Except they weren’t around anymore, which made this entire situation exceedingly suspicious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe I shouldn’t be here.” She lowered her arms and wrapped them once more around her glass, but didn’t take a sip. “But I am. Problem is though, I don’t know why you’re so worried about Time Lords. They’re all gone, mate. It’s just me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are they?” A new voice interrupted, one from behind the bar. The Doctor swiveled in her seat, caught a hand gripping a rag upon the bar, and followed it up into a critical face. Magenta skin. The same bartender who had served her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They are.” The Doctor frowned, studying the bartender. “You all know that as well as I do. You’re a time-sensitive lot. You know of the war.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bartender snorted. “We also know who ended it. Doctor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor’s hearts stilled. All of a sudden, she realized, the bar had gone very, very quiet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then you know that I don’t like to be bothered,” she said quietly. Her palms were sweating around the glass, which was ridiculous, because she wasn’t in any danger. Not from these lot. Not from anything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not when what she was seeking was far more dangerous.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bartender cocked his head, gauging her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t be here,” he said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Got that already,” the Doctor snapped. “Now, I’d like to know why you don’t seem to think the Time Lords are as gone as they actually are.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, how could they be?” the bartender asked. “When they came by just last month?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor’s blood ran cold.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” she whispered. It was all she could manage. Distantly, she could feel her hearts thrumming fast, like a hummingbird’s, “That can’t—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was,” the man beside her said. She turned to him slowly, as if in a dream. He regarded her uneasily, as if trying to understand her reaction. “Two of them. They came to this quadrant.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This quadrant,” the Doctor repeated dimly. “But why? And how? They don’t exist anymore. Somebody I know made sure of that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, that’s the thing, isn’t it?” Before her, the bartender began to swirl wet circles across the counter with his rag. Behind her, slow, unsure conversation began to pick up. She could barely hear it. “That’s what they came for.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a long moment, the Doctor didn’t answer. She only stared at him, something sharp and cold moving through her chest, like ice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>This is it</span>
  </em>
  <span>, thrummed her hearts, and beside them too, her gut twinged in pure astonishment. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This can’t be it.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re lying,” she told him, curt because it was the best way to cover the fact that she was reeling. “The Time Lords can’t be back. They just can’t. You have to be lying.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bartender shrugged, remarkably unaffected compared to his compatriot. “You’re here. Why shouldn’t there be others?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because—“ She didn’t have an answer. She stared at him for a long moment, then changed tact. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why did they come here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He told you.” This came from the man on the barstool, watching her with fear now mixed with confusion. “They came for him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>For him, for him, for him—</span>
  </em>
  <span> She forced herself to calm. From what, she wasn’t sure. Her hearts were racing, adrenaline piling onto victory piling onto </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally finally finally finally—</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For him,” she said. “Who’s him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bartender’s rag squeaked to a halt. “You don’t know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She has to know.” The frightened man was still watching her, his eye wide. “Every time sensitive person knows of you two. Time Lords. Best friends.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Were,” the Doctor snapped. “Now he’s just a lunatic I’m trying to find.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A lunatic,” the bartender repeated. He didn’t look as if he believed the Doctor—or rather, believed her saying it. “Why would you find him then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That question, it was always that question. Was it really such an unusual question? the Doctor wondered. For all he had done—for all he had done to their </span>
  <em>
    <span>people</span>
  </em>
  <span>—the question of it was simply moot. She would find him. She would make him pay. Or something.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For revenge,” she said, and watched both their eyes widen in surprise. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You would take revenge on him?” the bartender asked. The Doctor simply nodded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He has a lot to pay for.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were both staring at her, the bartender and the other man. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the other man press two fingers to his lips—an old religious symbol of their race. Funny, she thought absently, that they would cling to such things. Time-sensitive beings who could see the universe laid out before them, even if they couldn’t quite understand it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He came to our quadrant.” It was the man who spoke, his eye still fixed on the Doctor, studying. The words were abrupt, and appeared to surprise even him—he checked himself for a moment, as if unsure he wanted to continue. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor swiveled towards him, planting an elbow on the counter. “When?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man hesitated, then shrugged. “Does when matter? But not long ago, in linear time. He only…showed up. Said he was on the run from another universe. We knew what he was, of course, but we didn’t who he was.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Xilas,” the bartender hissed. “Why are you telling her this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because I’d make you tell me anyway.” The Doctor’s eyes remained fixed on the man before her. Some steel had slipped into her voice without meaning to. Oh well—she could only be grateful the fam wasn’t around to see it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell me,” she demanded, when the man didn’t immediately continue. “How did he get here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xilas only shook his head, eye darting over her. “We don’t know. Nobody knows. Just flashes of light, and—” He trailed off, shrugging.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Kasaavin,” the Doctor breathed, eyes alight. Her mind was turning quickly, hearts pounding. She couldn’t quite believe, after all this time, she might have stumbled across him purely by accident.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, not by accident. Luck, maybe, that they had been traveling in this quadrant when Yaz had heard the whispers. Pure scheming, that she had chosen this race to talk to—ones who kept note of the comings and goings of time and space. Ones who would know if something had happened.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know what they were called,” Xilas said. “And I didn’t see it. This was two galaxies away. And if we’d known who he was, we never would have given him asylum, you understand, but—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We didn’t recognize him,” the bartender growled. His rag had begun to move again, swiping across the bar. “He decimated two planets before we realized.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Two planets,” the Doctor whispered. Stupidly, guilt sunk in her chest, even though it wasn’t her fault, it had never been her fault. Except that he was her best friend, still, and that had to mean something.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His crimes, her guilt. Still intertwined, until she finally cut the cord. She had the scissors ready, even. She only had to find him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xilas only nodded, his eye wide in horrified memory. “It was terrible,” he whispered. “And we couldn’t stop him.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then how did you?” the Doctor asked, even though she thought she knew the answer. And sure enough, Xilas shook his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We didn’t, did we?” he said. “That was when the Time Lords came.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Time Lords,” the Doctor repeated. “But—</span>
  <em>
    <span>how?</span>
  </em>
  <span> You of all races know that they don’t exist anymore. There’s only the two of us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She winced as she said it, the accidental drawing of comparison, the linking of her with him. She hadn’t meant to slip up in so many words. But the bartender and Xilas didn’t notice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We don’t know,” the bartender said with a stiff shrug. He finished with the rag, used it to wipe his hands, then tossed it over his shoulder into a sink. “But that was the thing, you know? They didn’t say anything about your world, or your people. They didn’t even call themselves Time Lords, except that we knew they were.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” The Doctor gaped at him. “Hang on—what did they call themselves, then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was Xilas who answered, his voice low and rough with old fear. It was nearly a whisper, but the Doctor caught it anyway. Her hearts went still.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They called themselves the King and Queen,” he said. “The rulers of the Underworld.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>————</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not every Time Lord served in the Time War. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Corsair didn’t. Neither did the Master, except when he did, and even then he ran off in the end, hiding himself inside a fobwatch. But there were others still, those deemed to dangerous, or too mad, or too out of control.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rulers of the Underworld were all three. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Long before the Last Great Time War was anything more than a whisper across the winds of time, the Time Lords kept a great and worried eye on those who might one day oppose them. The Daleks, and the Cybermen, and a whole host of others, beings deemed too dangerous to exist in the physical universe. The Time Lords couldn’t intervene, as was their protocol (except when they did, and often), but they watched.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And in preparation, they created the Underworld.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t readily populated. The Time Lords didn’t like, or didn’t care enough to do so, but they kept it ready, just in case. A pocket universe, closed off from the physical world, and made to house the most dangerous of beings. Daleks and Cybermen and anything worse that might spring from the cracks of time and space, things that the Time Lords didn’t want, or didn’t know how to deal with. For a long time, it just stood. Empty, and waiting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Until the war happened. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All of a sudden, the universe was in a maelstrom. Time and space twisting in on themselves, and new beings springing into creation—beings too horrific to behold, and too dangerous to exist. They began to eat steadily through the universe, gobbling up planets and peoples and whole galaxies, and the Time Lords stood helpless to stop them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Until the King and Queen offered their assistance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They weren’t originally called the King and Queen, but their names were already lost to the universe by the time they took the title. They were War Lords, the newest lot, born in the days when the Time Lords stopped caring about whether their soldiers were sane and only cared that they could fight. It was rumored that, as a pair, they laid nearly as much destruction as the Nightmare Child and the Could-Have-Been King combined in their wake, before they turned their services over to guardianship of the Underworld.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There were too many beings out there, they said. Terrible things, things that could end the universe. They wanted to contain them. The Time Lords, jumping for the chance to kill two birds with one stone, agreed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Only the King and Queen were granted free passage between the universe and the Underworld. In fact, they were the only ones who knew how to do so. In the last days of the war, when the Daleks were surrounding the homeworld, the King and Queen busied themselves with dragging off the horrors of the universe to their new domain. When Gallifrey supposedly died in a burst of Dalek fire, the King and Queen disappeared into their pocket universe, lords over their new subjects, and never reappeared again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Until now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>—————</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor stared. Distantly, she realized she had one sweaty hand on her glass, the condensation soaking into her palm. She removed it, and wiped it quickly on her trousers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You must be mistaken,” she said hoarsely. “You made a mistake.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bartender threw back his head and laughed. “A mistake! As if we couldn’t sense it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We knew they were Time Lords,” Xilas insisted. “Anybody can tell they were Time Lords. And it made sense. They said they had come for him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course they would come for him,” the Doctor whispered, except that wasn’t right at all, because the Underworld was made for monsters, and the Master wasn’t a—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They took him away,” the bartender finished. He was eying the Doctor warily, trying to gauge her reaction. “They said he was under their jurisdiction. And they left. That was all. Even told us we would never see them again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once more, Xilas pressed two fingers to his lips, then lowered them slowly. He looked scared again, the Doctor noticed, as if the very story were enough to send his heart racing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They told us they would never come back,” he told the Doctor, and his eye ran accusingly up and down the Doctor’s form. “And then you came.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not with them,” the Doctor said immediately. “I’ve never been associated with them. They’re—they’re—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cruelest, most psychotic of the lot. Crazy enough to keep the very worst of the universe under their beck and call. The kind of Time Lords who would wipe out an entire quadrant of the universe just because they were bored, and only didn’t because they had their own pocket universe to rule. Enough power to keep them occupied, and satiated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re right,” she said. She stood abruptly, knocking her barstool back. “I shouldn’t have come here. This was wrong of me. I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you didn’t even—” the bartender called, but she was already turning, pushing her barstool out of the way and shoulder through the crowds, all who parted easily, and with more than a little fear. She barely noticed them. She only burst through the doors and out onto a chilly street, doubling over with a sudden lack of air in her lungs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She had failed. The Master had been found before she’d even gotten close, and now she was stuck on one side of the universe, while he was outside of it. Found by the very thing she wouldn’t wish upon her worst enemy, and now she was stuck, burning for a revenge she would never get. He, having won once more, if only by sealing his destruction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She couldn’t let him win. The problem was, she didn’t know what to do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor took two deep breaths, then forced herself to straighten, shuffling away her emotions like one might shuffle a good card to the bottom of the deck. She had one thing to do now, and that was to find the fam. Find them, get back to the TARDIS, then figure out what she had to do. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Easy. Simple. Three steps, straightforward. She could accomplish all that. The Doctor squared her shoulders, sucking in another breath for good measure, then turned and moved back in the direction she’d came.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The fam would be waiting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>—————</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You alright, Doc?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The third time she’d been asked that question. The Doctor stiffened momentarily, then forced herself to relax, even though she knew he must have caught her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” she forced out, and knew immediately that she’d fumbled it. There was a pause, then a sigh, soft as a whisper.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t have to pretend, you know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not pretending.” She didn’t look at him. She barely looked at any of them these days. Two days since that trip, and she stayed glued to the console, only she was no longer looking. Or, at the least, not looking for the Master. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rather, she was looking for confirmation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another sigh, this time more pronounced. “Doc—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Graham.” She straightened, propped an elbow on the console, and tried to look thoroughly nonchalant, even though she could feel the tightness settling under her teeth. “Really, I’m fine. I’m just a little tense, is all. Ever since—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That trip, two days ago,” Graham completed. He gave her a knowing look, mouth already open to ask more questions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Since Gloucester,” the Doctor said quickly, which was also true, if not the current focus. When Graham looked doubtful, she sagged a little, casting her gaze to the ground, then let out a quiet sigh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve just been thinking about it,” she admitted—also true, to an extent. “It’s not everyday you meet yourself, you know? And something like this—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know what to make of it, Graham,” she said, and watched his gaze melt into sympathy. “I’m sorry. I’ve been out of it, haven’t I?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shrugged. “A bit,” he said, but he was smiling a little, and she could tell he bought it. “That’s alright, though. We just wanted to make sure you’re okay, you know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled back at him. “I know, Graham. And thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>—————</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For the next two days, she stayed in that same quadrant, and set the TARDIS to monitor every frequency of communication for exactly what Yaz had heard before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mentions. Whispers. News articles, even. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was looking for. Not that it mattered, because she found them all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once she started listening, it became clear that the quadrant was buzzing. The news of the Time Lord—the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Master</span>
  </em>
  <span>—and the two other Time Lords who had swept him away was exciting, and new, and had just enough danger to it to keep everybody talking about it for a long time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For two days, she only listened, and did nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the third day, she dumped the fam off back in Sheffield.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is this?” Yaz was the most persistent and least easy to coax out of the TARDIS. She stood stubbornly in the doorway as the Doctor not-so-subtly tried to push her out. “Why are you kickin’ us out again?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not kicking you out,” the Doctor said with a cheerful grin, stretched a little too tight over her cheekbones. “I’m letting you have a break! TARDIS is knackered anyway. I need to do repairs, dangerous repairs, and I won’t have you on my ship while I do them. It’s not safe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not safe my arse,” Graham said, his arms crossed and his gaze narrowed. “You don’t want us to come with you, do you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come with me?” The Doctor affected confusion. “To where? I’m only parking her in the time vortex.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, you’re searching for him, aren’t you?” Ryan stepped up beside Graham, his jaw tight and his hands shoved into his pockets. She watched a muscle jump in his cheek, and it occurred to her that Ryan had never been one to easily anger. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Funny how the Doctor changed people.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve already found him.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “If I were, I would have told you.” Not true. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Seriously</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I just don’t want to put you lot around so many exploding wires.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, okay.” Ryan didn’t look like he believed one word. Neither did the others, for that matter. Yaz still had one foot inside the TARDIS. “So you’re really not gonna tell us?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor looked at him, then to Graham and Yaz. All watching her, waiting. For lies they would inevitably see through.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just going to be gone a few hours,” she said. “I’ll be back around tea time. I promise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t a lie. It also gave them nothing but an admission of guilt. Yes, I have things I won’t tell you. No, I won’t tell you them. Now, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span>, let me get on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They hated it. She watched them grit their teeth, shift on their feet, glance between each other. Stuck in the knowledge that they couldn’t very well stop her, and yet—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine.” Yaz stepped out of the TARDIS, and fully onto the pavement. Her hands, the Doctor noticed, were in fists at her sides. Her shoulders, taut. “You don’t have to tell us, Doctor. We’re only your friends, after all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Friends, not family. The Doctor didn’t miss the slip. Her cheery smile clenched tighter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Repairs,” she promised them, felt the lie stain her teeth, and stepped back into the TARDIS. Gave them a jaunty wave, which none of them returned. “Back by tea time!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t wait for a response, but closed the door behind her and fell against it, breathing hard. Her stomach turned with the lies. Somehow, it was always worse when they saw through them. The shame of being caught, even when she wasn’t not really. She was still going, after all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The thing was, her human friends would never understand. They didn’t know the Master, not really. They could never understand the level of destruction he had wrought across the universe, nor the ache of betrayal burning in her stomach. It wasn’t just a matter of justice, though it was that too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was revenge, plain and simple. The rulers of the Underworld couldn’t have him, because he was the Doctor’s to have. For what, she wasn’t sure. Kill, maybe. Exact revenge upon. Hurt, in the same way he had hurt her. She would decide which once she saw him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But first, she had to see him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right, old girl.” With a grunt, she pushed off of the door and strode to the console, ignoring the TARDIS’s worried beep. “No, none of that. You know I have to do this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the sound of another uneasy beep, the TARDIS clearly disagreed. Still, she let the Doctor take off, and didn’t protest as she piloted into the time vortex. She set her there, anchored but drifting, then leaned back against the console and thought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pocket universes were tricky. Those set up by the Time Lords were even trickier. This one—old, closed off, and made to guard the most abominable of creatures—would be nigh impossible to access. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For better or for worse, that had never stopped the Doctor before. The only question was how, in fact, she would do it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Problem was, she couldn’t take the TARDIS. She didn’t even have to check the manual; no pocket universe so closely guarded would ever let a time ship through. Nor a space ship, nor any other mode of transportation, no matter how easily such transports could slip the bonds of transdimensional reality. The only ones who went in or out of the Underworld were the King and Queen. Nobody else. Not even other Time Lords.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well. Unless you believed the stories. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The TARDIS sensed her thoughts, and gave another distressed beep. This time, the Doctor didn’t bother to soothe. She only stared at the doors without really seeing them, lost in thought. Trying to decide if her idea was worth a shot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Who was she kidding? She would try it anyway. She had nothing to lose except her life, and that wasn’t worth much anyway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right.” She straightened, and turned towards the controls. The TARDIS gave a worried hum, but she only patted the console absently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now, dear. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The TARDIS only beeped again, disconsolate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Will you?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” the Doctor said firmly, with a glance up to the central pillar. “I’ll be fine. I always am. Now, let’s go. I have somebody I’d very much like to find.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>—————</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There weren’t many legends about the Underworld, nor about the King and Queen. They came into existence too late in Time Lord history to scrabble up much a mythology. At that time, people were too focused on the war that was raging, and how best not to die.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, there were a few things. Things parents—particularly cruel parents, the Doctor thought—would tell their children to frighten them into obedient sleep. She’d never liked the stories. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But there was one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They said that there was another way into the Underworld. Tucked away in the coldest, most out of reach corner of the universe, where nobody dared tread, not even the Time Lords. It was said that you could only walk; that no ship, no transport, no trickery could get you there. Only your own two feet and a dash of bravery. Perhaps more than a dash of stupidity as well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They also said that there was no way out; only the way in, if you for some reason decided to venture forth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Parents on Gallifrey sometimes told their children that if they were naughty, they would be driven to the way and made to walk. The Doctor never understood the use of such stories. Maybe because they would have frightened the living daylights out of her as a child.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But there was always some merit in myths, the Doctor had come to find. Especially those told to frightened children. Now, as she piloted the TARDIS to the coldest, darkest corner of the universe, she could only hope that she was right.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The planet she landed on was no more than a hunk of unidentifiable rock. When the Doctor opened the door, making sure first to extend the air corridor a good hundred meters, she saw no stars in the sky. Only deep blackness, so absolute that it seemed to descend upon the planet itself, heavy as a blanket.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cheery place,” the Doctor muttered, and stepped out onto cold, rocky ground. She could feel the very lack of heat through her shoes; the surface seemed to vacuum away any and all warmth. She shuddered, and crossed her arms over her chest, pulling her coat tighter. By the measure of the legend, it looked like she was in the right place. However, by any other measure, it looked like nothing at all. She saw no entrance, no doorway. Nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her fingers were white and numb as she pulled out her sonic and pointed it in front of her. She could hear her own teeth chattering, loud in the almost-vacuum. No wind whistled. The silence, broken only by her air corridor, felt like cotton in her ears.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With shaky, cold hands, she began to wave the sonic across the expanse. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It took her a while to find it—and it wasn’t much at all. At the edge of the air corridor, just beyond where it was safe to step, there was a dimensional weakness. Very slight—not enough to notice without the help of advanced readings. The kind of thing you couldn’t even fall into by accident. Just a slight indent in the dimensional walls. She’d almost missed it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor lowered her sonic, then carefully tucked it back into her pocket. For a long moment, she only stood there, staring. It seemed impossible that the thing she had been looking for for months on end might be right in front of her, only a walk away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Very briefly, she wondered if it was worth it. She didn’t really have to do this, after all. The Master was as good as dead. The King and Queen would keep him cordoned off from the rest of the universe, trapped in a hellish jail of their own making. She needn’t interfere. She could go back to her friends, apologize, and take them out somewhere nice. A beach planet, maybe. Yaz would love the beach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But the Master was her best friend. So if the Doctor had to walk into hell, just so she could be the one to kill him, she would. She owed him nothing less.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a deep breath, and a twinge of fear in her stomach, she stepped out of the air corridor, and right through the dimensional walls.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>—————</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For half a second, she expected to die. It certainly felt as if she were about to. The air rushed out of her lungs; her chest compressed; the tears in her eyes froze over, as did her eyelashes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, just as quickly as the vacuum swept over her, so too did it retreat, leaving nothing but the barest hint of warmth and a dead silence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor opened her eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was no longer on the dead planet. She was no longer anywhere. The way that stretched before her was dark and endless, and surrounded on all side by the universe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No—it wasn’t the universe. The Doctor could feel that. It felt too…different, and it looked it too. When she craned her head back, she caught a kaleidoscope of dull colors, waterfalling across what might have been a sky, except it felt at once too close and too distant to be anything at all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stared above for several long seconds, then lowered her head and looked around. On both sides, the not-universe swirled around her, sparkling dully though there was no light to reflect. She couldn’t even understand how she could see.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor studied this for several seconds, then turned back to the front.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Only the way ahead of her was dark. It trailed into nothingness, beckoning, whilst around her, transdimensional walls—if that was what they were—churned slowly. She felt a bit as if she were walking through a shark tunnel at the aquarium. An entire universe—non-universe—kept at bay by what felt like nothing at all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Suppose I’ll only see this once,” she muttered, grimacing as the words hung in the air, heavy in the silence. She shivered slightly, then stuck her hands in her pockets for warmth, and started forward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At first, she didn’t feel as if she were moving at all. She walked for an indeterminate amount of time, until her feet hurt and her teeth chattered from the chill, and nothing seemed to change. The non-universe moved slowly around her, and the darkness ahead of her stayed, waiting patiently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wasn’t sure when she entered it. It came upon her slowly, like dusk falling. The world around her turned fuzzy, then indistinct. When she glanced at the walls around her, it became harder and harder to make out the kaleidoscope of shimmering colors. They began to dull; their sparkle lessened. Eventually, when she glanced at the walls—if they were walls—she saw nothing but blackness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Soon, even the shape of the tunnel itself seemed to erode. The angles disappeared, swallowed into darkness, and so did the comfort of the ceiling above her head, though she wasn’t even sure if that had been a ceiling at all. Eventually, the Doctor realized, she was walking in nothing and into nothing, the only evidence of the world around her the ground beneath her feet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And even that, at times, seemed to disappear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t like this,” she muttered, though there was nobody to listen except herself. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Really</span>
  </em>
  <span> don’t like this. This is…what would Ryan call it? Proper weird.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nothing answered her, and she lapsed back into silence, straining to make out her own footfalls. She couldn’t hear them, and for a wild moment wondered if she were in fact walking on nothingness, before remembering that that was probably impossible. Probably.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon, Doctor,” she urged herself, clasping her arms over her chest and giving herself a little shake. “Brave heart. This is nothing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And she was right about that, she thought grimly. This truly was nothing, nothing at all. She was lost, wandering in a void, with no way out and no way back. Only her own two feet to guide her, and the poor things knew no more about where she was going than she was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What had she said it took? Two feet, a dash of bravery, and plenty of stupidity. She had all of those, sure enough. All of those, and not enough of a brain to leave well enough alone. That had always been her fatal flaw, Koschei had always teased. Thinking with her feet, not her head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, he’d shared the same flaw, she had always been quick to point out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m coming for you,” she muttered, flinching as the words dropped like stones into nothingness. “You hear me, Koschei? I’m coming for you. I’m going to make you pay, you bastard. I’m going to kill you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wasn’t going to kill him, though. Not at first, anyway. First, she would take him to Gallifrey, and shove him pointlessly in front of the ruins he surely must have seen and she would keep him there until he broke the same way she had broken, falling to her knees on the rock-hard ground, and then she would leave him there to rot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, she wouldn’t leave him there to rot. Too dangerous. She would tie him up and use a trick she had learned in Venusian Aikido to stop one heart so he would lie in pain for hours or days before the other one stopped too. Then, when he regenerated, she would come back and do the same thing again. And again, and again, until he finally ran out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Or maybe she would ask him, first. She would get the answers out. She would force him to speak, and then she would leave him there, once she knew just what the Timeless Child was, and why it had driven him to destroy their home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe she wouldn’t stop there. Maybe she would keep going, question after question, all things she had always wanted to know and never gotten answers for. Why he had to kill. Why he delighted in destruction. Why he had to be so horribly, terribly evil, and still her best friend. Why he couldn’t leave her well enough alone, so she could move on and pretend that they had never been those two boys, back on Gallifrey, when it had still been alive and well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe, for once, he would answer her. Maybe she could force him into it, or conjole him into it, or whatever it might take before he would spit answers to all the questions that had burned at her for millenia. Maybe he would answer, and then she would reason with him, and convince him otherwise, and he would see the destruction of Gallifrey, and he would realize what he had done, finally, </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Daydreaming,” she reminded herself, sleepily, wearily. She was walking slow now, every footstep falling heavy, stumbling over nothing, weaving slightly. She wasn’t sure how long she had been walking. It might have been hours. It felt like days. No—it felt like something outside the realm of time itself, for here, time surely didn’t exist. Only the nothingness, and the non-universe, and herself, walking blindly into the stupidest decision she had ever made.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I shouldn’t be doing this,” she said out loud. Then she raised her voice, and said it again. “I shouldn’t be doing this!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nobody answered her. Nothing now even swirled around her, but she moved anyway through dead stillness, like wading through a swamp. Though she didn’t think hot and cold existed here, a phantom chill was soaking into her bones, sending her into uncontrollable shivers, with no respite of warmth. Briefly the Doctor wondered, if she were to lay down, what would happen? Was there even a floor to lie upon? Or would she sink right through, swallowed up by the cracks between dimensions?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shivered, and decided not to try. Instead she just put her head down, and kept walking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a long, long time, nothing happened. The Doctor only walked, and thought about all the painful things she would do to the Master when she found him, and then she thought about all the things she would say, and then, when she had nothing left to say, she sunk into sad, quiet thoughts of a home she didn’t have anymore, and a friend she’d long since given up on. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t even notice, at first, that she wasn’t alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first murmur of movement came to her left, and so loud was it in the utter silence—loud as a gunshot, though it was no more than a rustle—that she actually stopped in her tracks, her head shooting up. But of course, the world around her was nothing but blackness, and when she swung to the left, she couldn’t even be sure that she wasn’t actually looking to the right.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who’s there?” she said, then cursed, because of course they weren’t going to answer. And nobody did; for several long moments, as the Doctor peered into the darkness, straining her eyes, she caught nothing. Even the rustling had disappeared. The way was as still and empty as it had been a minute ago.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a long second, the Doctor turned to what she thought to be the front, and began walking again. Immediately, she heard another rustle, this time to her right.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who’s there?” She didn’t stop this time as she called out, but only hunched her shoulders, though she didn’t reckon that to do much. At her voice, the rustling stopped, and there came silence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, she heard a soft laugh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>there?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she called, putting as much steel into her voice as she could. The laughing only grew, twisting into a high giggle that the Doctor didn’t like at all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>We know something you don’t know</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it seemed to say. The Doctor grit her teeth, and kept going.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m ignoring you!” she called, and only heard soft laughter, this time all around her, layered voices, laughing and laughing and laughing, high and taunting and hideously familiar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Familiar. Why were they familiar? She knew this presence. Knew this laughter. Only she couldn’t quite—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor froze in her tracks, her breath slamming in her throat. It took her a moment to recover the necessary air to speak.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello,” she said after a long moment. “Do you know me? Do I know you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But the soft laughter only continued, and among it another voice—no, they were voices, whispering in delight and glee.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s here!” they whispered, and around her, the laughter rose. “An outsider!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Does she know where she’s going?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Does she know where she’s come?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Does she know who we are?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t know who you are, actually,” the Doctor said politely, blinking as if that might help to clear away the darkness. She began to walk again, shoulders hunched and bent slightly forward, trying uselessly to keep out the inescapable chill. “Might want to introduce yourselves.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, but we know her!” the voices cried out, delighted. “She’s come to see us!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Excuse me?” The Doctor glanced wildly around, but only saw darkness, and then—was that a flicker of movement? She couldn’t be sure. “How do you know me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>High, giggling laughter, a thousand times over. “She’s here,” the voices ranted. “She’s here, she’s here, she’s here—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who’s here?” The Doctor jumped at another flitter of movement and swung to the left, only to find nothing. “What are you talking about?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Doctor is here!” The voices crowed, all of a sudden crowding her ears, cold huffs of breath on her neck. “The Doctor’s here!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor jumped out of her skin, and her hands came up wildly to bat away—what? There was nothing there. The voices around her began to laugh again, a continuous, melodic chuckle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Doctor is here—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s come to our domain—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s she looking for?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How do you know me?” the Doctor cried, cursing the break in her voice. “Listen, I don’t really like being talked at, so if you could just—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We should take her with us,” the voices whispered, and around her the Doctor heard giggling agreement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She doesn’t realize who we are—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We could show her—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cold fingers flittered over the Doctor’s hands, and she yelped, yanking them back, but then they were on her sleeves instead, and the back of her coat, at her hood, pulling and tugging, dragging her down and away—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get off me!” she cried, and tried to wrestle herself away, but a thousand hands and she was no match. They pulled her down, burying her in a million cold hands and fingers, clasping over her ears and her nose and her eyes, worming into her mouth, clamping around her neck—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get away!” she cried, and with one last, panicky shove, forced herself to tumble backwards, into the cold ground, which gave away beneath her, and the voices screamed in fury, but it was too late, for she was falling, and falling, and falling—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She landed with a thump upon hard ground, and for a moment, laid there, trying to breathe. All the air had been knocked out of her lungs. Every part of her body ached.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, she opened her eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It struck her immediately that she was in a place. A real place, no longer reminiscent of the void that she had walked through. The ground beneath her was solid, and rocky, if cold. Far above her, she could see what looked like a dark night, though there were no stars. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Around her, people stared.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, not people. Or at least, people only in the loosest sense of the word. She didn’t look at them, didn’t even turn her head, but she could sense them despite, and felt them crowding around with a cruel sort of curiosity, like vultures circling roadkill. In the quiet of their rustling closeness, she could hear her hearts slamming against her ribcage and had the wild, irrational thought that the sound was giving her away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Foolish. It was no crime to be alive in this land of the dead. Because the dead weren’t dead, not really. They were alive too, just not in the sense that people were alive, because they were something different. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Travesties, people used to call them. They had been people once, who had gotten caught in the throes of the time-bending tactics of the Time War, and become twisted beyond recognition. Most of them gained some time-sense themselves, and eventually they formed a horde, and descended upon both the Time Lords and the Daleks in the battle of Tirias, and wiped out the entirety of their fleets.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The horde of Travesties. Something the Doctor only saw now in her worst nightmares.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t turn her head. She only stared at the starless sky, and felt her lips go dry with fear. Around her, the travesties began to click as they neared, like insects, high and chittering, and the Doctor realized then that she should have gotten up long ago and tried to run but it was too late, and anyway, fear had frozen her to the ground.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Time began to click with them, jittering in and out of reality, turning her sense to pudding, and this time, when she tried to struggle to her feet, she couldn’t. She only made it to her knees, then slumped forward, a million temporal irregularities pressing her to the ground and turning her stomach. The chittering rose, now edged with glee as the Travesties neared, encircling and bearing down, their thousand limbs snaking out to wrap around and tear her timeline to pieces like a paper put through a shredder, and the Doctor couldn’t stop them. She tried once more to rise to her feet, and only briefly made it before the clicking of time overwhelmed her and she fell to her knees again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need—“ Thinking out loud usually helped, even if in this case she could barely think. “I need—I need—“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A better plan. A sense of judgment. Somebody to tell her not to be an idiot. She blinked through thoughts, tried to formulate a plan, and instead only felt her head turn wobbly, her time-sense oozing out of her like pudding. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need—I need—“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You! What are you doing here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor’s head jerked up. Her vision turned muddy with the movement, then refocused. Blearily, she frowned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who are—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A woman and a man towered over her, weapons in their hands and glares upon their faces. In the dimness of the starless night, red and black uniforms glittered dully. Around them, the chittering began to fade.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You aren’t supposed to be here,” the woman reached down and, before the Doctor could scramble away, grabbed her by the collar and dragged her upright. “You aren’t one of the condemned.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I—” The Doctor staggered onto her feet, and scrabbled desperately at her collar. “Who are you?” she managed to choke out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woman’s face twisted into a sneer. “We’re the guards of the Underworld. And you’re under arrest.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>—————</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They snapped cuffs on her wrists and a gag over her mouth, and shoved her out in front of them, weapons jabbed in her back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Walk,” they commanded, and since she couldn’t protest, she did. The horde had disappeared, though to where, she didn’t know, and the world around her was a rocky expanse that seemed to stretch endlessly into the horizon. In the distance, though it was hard to make out anything against a black sky, she thought she could see mountains.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who’m—” She couldn’t get out anything past the gag, but she tried anyway. “Wh—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up,” the man snapped, and jabbed his weapon into her back, hard enough to hurt. “You’re lucky we didn’t leave you to the Travesties.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We should have,” the woman scoffed. “The gall you have, walking straight into the Underworld. You don’t belong here, prisoner.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor could only shrug weakly to this. Even if she weren’t gagged, she wouldn’t have known what to say. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But I’m here anyway</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she might tell them. What were they going to do about it, besides kill her? They clearly weren’t even going to do that. Somehow, within minutes of arriving into the Underworld, she was wanted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where’m—” she tried, and received another jab to the back, this one hard enough to send her stumbling, as tears sprouted in her eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up,” the man commanded again, his weapon kept right between her shoulder blades, a warning. “We’re taking you to the palace. To be sentenced.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You didn’t need to tell her that,” the woman hissed, only to be met by a careless grunt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What does it matter if she knows? It’s not as if she’s going anywhere.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was true, the Doctor reflected. With her hands tied and her sonic out of reach—not to mention the weapons pointed at her—she had no way of escape. They’d even taken away her best weapon—her voice. With both hands and voice gone, she had nothing but her brain, and that clearly hadn’t been serving her well lately. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They continued to walk, tramping over hard, stony ground, in what seemed like no particular direction. The mountains never seemed to near, nor did they become distant. The entire landscape stayed still and silent, with only the occasional rustle of wind to break the monotony. The world around them seemed incredibly empty, and yet there was something quite small about it that the Doctor didn’t like at all. The sky seemed flat and solid, as if it might press down upon them at any moment. She had the funny sense that she was walking in a snow globe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The wind began to pick up as they walked, slowly at first, then with more strength, shifting and rustling across the landscape, though it brought no chill. Only the sound of it, tugging just at the edge of her auditory perception, enough to have her jerking around with the memory of those cold hands and whispering voices.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But there were no voices, and no hands. Only the feel of the weapons pressed between her shoulder blades, the wind rustling in her ears, and the strange pressure of the sky on her back, heavy and oppressive, as if it were bearing down on her, though when she craned her neck back, she saw that it was far away as ever.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t look at it,” the man behind her said, a curt warning in his voice. When she twisted around to look at him, a question she couldn’t say in her eyes, he gave a small shake of his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t draw its attention. You’ll bring it on all of us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor stared at him for a long moment, uncomprehending. The wind shifted in her ears, low and distant and off somehow, and for a moment, she couldn’t figure out why. Then, she turned back to the front and quickly scanned the landscape.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite the apparent strength of the wind, no dust stirred from the ground. No stones skittered. The landscape was dead as could be, except for herself and the two guards making their way across. Still, the restless shifting of what couldn’t be wind continued to move around them, and now, the Doctor realized, she knew what it was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was no wind. There was no sky. The expanse above them shifted and stirred and waited, a living, breathing creature, if it could be called such in any sense of the word. There was no sky, the Doctor realized, because the creature above them filled the empty space instead, heavy and amorphous and seething with a malevolence she could feel right through her thin, cotton shirt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was no chill, but a cold shiver ran down the Doctor’s spine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that—?” she tried to get through the gag, and didn’t quite make it, but the man seemed to understand anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Prisoner,” he grunted. “Just like you. Likes to eat the others, if you’re not careful.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor thought about asking what that meant. Then she decided she didn’t want to know.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They continued to walk for an indeterminate amount of time until, without warning, the two guards came to a halt, forcing her into a stumbling halt as well. It took her a moment to understand why they had stopped; the land around them hadn’t changed. The mountains weren’t any closer. They appeared, for all intents and purposes, not to have moved at all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then the woman stepped forward and tapped at what looked like thin air. Under her fingers, however, invisible keys lit up, rending a series of beeps which appeared to be to her satisfaction. She stepped back, and a moment later, the air slid apart to reveal a metallic interior. The Doctor stared, until the man jabbed her roughly in the shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get inside the transmat beam,” he growled, adding another shove to drive the point home. The Doctor stumbled forward, and nearly tripped inside. As it was, she managed to recover, and turned around to find that she was, indeed, in what she now recognized as a transmat beam.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Could place these things closer together,” the man grumbled as he stepped inside behind her, his weapon still casually pointed in her direction. “Or let us beam her in directly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She needs to be screened,” the woman said sharply. She stepped inside as well, leaving the door to whir shut behind them. “C’mon. They’ve been waiting for her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who—” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guard silenced the Doctor with a casual cuff to the back of her head, so hard that she went flying forward. Stars burst in her eyes as the woman caught her, shoving her away with a noise of disgust.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t make this too messy, Rowan. Look, she’s bleeding.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man—Rowan—only grunted in reply. The woman sighed, and out of the corner of her blurry vision, the Doctor watched her reach out to press something on a keypad.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Immediately, they dissolved into nothingness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They reformed moments later, in a circular room with a gleaming floor and high, silvery walls. The Doctor barely had time to recover from the shock of a transmat beam—she </span>
  <em>
    <span>hated</span>
  </em>
  <span> those things—before the woman reached up and tore the gag from her mouth. The Doctor barely had time to cough in surprise before the woman then gave her a shove, nearly sending her to her knees. As it was, she only barely managed to keep her balance, her head still spinning from the guard’s hit. She wobbled for a moment, her skull aching dreadfully, and blearily read an inscription carved into the floor at her feet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Without death, life is the final sentence</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The phrase was written in Gallifreyan, and she studied it for several long moments, trying to make sense, then, at a huff from the guard behind, looked up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first thing she registered were the two thrones on the far end of the room, both of a burnished gold, gleaming dully under the room’s sourceless light. Both were ornately carved, and occupied—a man on the left, and a woman on the right. The man was smallish in size, with slumped shoulders and a scrungy beard, his elbows propped loosely upon the armrests. The woman appeared taller, with dark hair and eyes alight with interest as she leaned forward to regard the Doctor, a thin, cruel smile upon her face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Our trespasser,” she said. “How interesting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cheers,” the Doctor told her hoarsely. “Always glad to be of interest.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woman’s smile stretched tighter. Beside her, the man shifted impatiently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why is she bleeding?” he called to the guard behind her. The Doctor heard him shift uncomfortably, weapon clinking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Misbehaving, you highness,” he called. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man’s eyes narrowed, and he studied the guard for several long seconds. Behind her, the Doctor heard a quiet intake of breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, the man gave a flippant wave of his hand. “You. Give him to the Nightmare Child.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor heard a gasp, and twisted around just in time to see the woman grab the other guard, whose face had gone pale with fear. Still, he didn’t protest, but only looked past the Doctor, staring up at the man upon the throne with thin, trembling lips, as the woman pulled him away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait—!” The Doctor spun around. “It’s okay! You don’t have to—AUGH!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Abrupt pain burst in her head, driving her to her knees, then to the floor itself, all the resistance and brain gone out of her like a burst water balloon. Dimly, she curled upon the floor, but more presently she </span>
  <em>
    <span>screamed</span>
  </em>
  <span>, as her head tore in half and her own time-sense twisted in upon itself, driving her skull into scattered bits of unwinding time that she couldn’t understand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Timeline</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thought dizzily, </span>
  <em>
    <span>they’re twisting my time…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, she blacked out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She came to moments, or possibly minutes later, and didn’t open her eyes. She couldn’t. The world itself bore down on her, fractured into a million shards of glass that she couldn’t make sense of. Dimly, she realized that what they had done was akin to taking somebody’s arm and twisting it, except it hadn’t been her arm, it had been her entire timeline, wrenched behind her back at an unnatural angle, and now, even though the pain was gone, the memory of it kept her eyes shut and her body curled in on itself, waiting for the next blow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Open your eyes,” the man commanded, but his voice was distant and lacking any sort of authority, so she ignored him. He only sounded bored.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There came a sigh, long and laborious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We know who you are, Doctor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Could have expected as much. She had been an infamous name one too, before there was no-one left to hear it. The Doctor kept her eyes shut.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Distantly, someone shifted impatiently in their seat. Then came another sigh, this one a woman’s. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You won’t die here, Doctor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lovely.” The Doctor didn’t open her eyes. Every word was a battle. “Can’t—</span>
  <em>
    <span>imagine</span>
  </em>
  <span>—what you have in store for me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fool.” The man spat the word, all vitriol and oozing disgust. “You idiot, Doctor. How did you get in here? Do you even understand the danger you’ve placed upon the universe?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Danger. The word sank deep inside the Doctor’s chest. She considered it, keeping her eyes closed and her breathing shallow. Her whole being still ached something awful, and her mind was halfway in fritters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Danger. She’d placed the universe in danger— for what? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Revenge. Pure, simple, stupid revenge. Except it was a rightful revenge, a deserved revenge. They had to understand that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I came,” she whispered, half to herself, as if to prove— “to get someone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Surprised silence fell. She didn’t dare crack open an eye. She could hear only the thumping of her own hearts, outrageously loud in the dead still.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, the woman sighed loudly. “I knew it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man grunted in agreement, then the Doctor heard the snap of fingers. A whispered command she didn’t catch. Feet—guards—clumped behind her, but she didn’t have the strength to lift her head and see what they were on about.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doctor.” The woman’s voice drew her attention, and without thinking, the Doctor cracked open an eye, watched the woman regard her with narrow-eyed contemplation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How did you get here?” she asked, her voice sharp, demanding. Without thinking, the Doctor answered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I came through the back,” she said simply, and watched the woman’s eyes widen in surprise. Then, just as quickly, they narrowed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You had help,” she said. The Doctor only shook her head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t lie to me,” the woman said, and at the back of her head the Doctor felt the slightest tug, the first inkling of pain—a warning. “You would regret it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not,” the Doctor said. At this, the woman regarded her for a long moment, before the sound of doors slamming behind the Doctor had her eyes raising to greet whoever had entered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll see about that,” she said, and nodded to someone behind the Doctor. The Doctor didn’t hear a response, but a moment later, someone came crashing down beside her, a blur of ragged purple and dark hair. A smell of sweat and the faintest hint of cologne, as if the user had applied it ages ago and never had the chance to shower it off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor’s blood went cold. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You,” the man on the throne said, his voice snappish, but it wasn’t directed at the Doctor. It was directed at the form beside her, who only let out a groan. “Tell us how she got here. Tell us how you led her in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But the man beside her didn’t answer. Instead, he let out a laugh and rolled onto his side, revealing a mass of black hair and a scrungy beard and a flash of wide white teeth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master grinned at her, eyes shining with something she couldn’t place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello, Doctor,” he said. “Can’t believe you came all this way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>—————</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Three beats passed, counted in the thump of the Doctor’s hearts. She only stared, frozen into place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You,” she whispered. The Master only grinned wider.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me,” he whispered, his tone dripping satisfaction and smug victory, and all because she’d came for him, she knew. Care and commitment in the form of a long walk and several near death experiences, and he didn’t even know what she was here for. He only knew that she had come.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You,” she repeated. Then, she lunged for him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t expect that much, or perhaps he was only weakened by his time—however long it had been—in this strange and senseless prison, for she was on him in an instant, going for his throat, and he didn’t fight back. She took the advantage and dove for him sloppily, hands wrapping around his neck, so close that she could smell the sweat off of him, could even see the way his eyes widened in surprise as she clamped down, ready to tear the life out of him for all he had done— </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Enough!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pain tore through the Doctor, sending her crashing backwards upon the floor. She landed heavily, and only upon impact realized she was screaming, and the Master was laughing, high and hysterical and utterly mad, and somewhere deep in her gut she tried to summon the strength to go for him again, but then pain forced her flat on her back, and she was gone to the world.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She woke up to somebody slapping her lightly upon the cheek, and opened her eyes to the grinning face of the Master.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon, dear,” he said. “Not a pretty sight, all laid out like this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You,” she said hoarsely, but she had no strength behind it, and furthermore, she couldn’t even try to lift her head, never mind her arms. She could only glare at him as his grin grew wider, sparkling with madness and to her horror, relief.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Relief because she’d come for him. Relief because what more could possibly prove the devotion he’d always craved from her than to walk into hell? She’d come for him, and now he would hold that over her head for however long the both of them may live.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wondered what it would take to wipe that smile off his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to kill you,” she told him, and watched it drop into a pout, except he was still only fooling around, she could tell. Suddenly they were back in the same old game, running the same old circular tracks again and again. He’d try to kill her. She’d escape. She’d forgive him. He’d do it all again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t mean that,” he said, and stuck a hand into her face. Inviting. She didn’t take it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get out of my face,” she told him, and watched his smile drop, really drop this time, sliding off his face like a snowball smacked against a glass window. Then it twisted, and he jerked his hand back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” he spat, and sat back on his heels, wiping his hands as if she’d touched him. “Fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Master.” It was the woman who called him, and he spun around to face her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, love?” He had a different grin upon his face. Stretched tight, like canvas over a frame, all angles and no warmth. None of what he’d shown the Doctor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s afraid, the Doctor thought, and she considered that for a long moment, lying there sprawled upon her back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You will tell us how the Doctor arrived here,” the woman said, hands tight upon the ends of her armrests. Her voice was curt and demanding. “We know your history. We know you showed her the way in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me?” The Master gaped at her. Then, clumsily, he climbed to his feet, that same grin stretching wider and tighter across his face. Any moment, the Doctor thought, the canvas would split. “Me? You think </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span>—” He placed a hand to his chest, a mockery of astonishment— “brought her here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woman’s eyes tightened. Beside her, the man glared. For a long moment, neither said anything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, the Doctor laughed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All eyes snapped to her, but it was too late. She couldn’t help it. The situation was so bizarre, so ridiculous. In her mind’s eye, the Master’s relief taunted her, and she laughed harder to drown it out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Something you would like to add, Doctor?” the woman said, her tone carefully restrained.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure,” the Doctor gasped, tears streaming down her face. Then, with all the strength she could muster, she pulled herself to a sitting position, and leveled a shaky finger at the man and woman upon the thrones. “You—you both think—” She was still laughing. “You think I came here to save him!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man sucked in an irritated breath, but the woman only raised an eyebrow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You speak with ill caution in a domain not your own, Doctor,” she said mildly. “I know you know who we are.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure, sure.” Slowly, achingly, the Doctor clambered to her feet, balancing unsteadily. To her right, the Master was watching her, disgust twisting his expression. “You’re the King and Queen of the Underworld. Unless you’ve chosen fancier titles. Least you don’t have the big collars, always thought those were a right laugh.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woman’s eyes narrowed. “You’re treading a careful line, Doctor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, and what would you do to me?” The Doctor placed her hands on her hips, leaning forward in mock expectation. “Kill me? Thought life was the final sentence.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woman’s eyes roamed over the letters etched into the ground, then her lips twitched into an almost smile. “We can do much worse than kill you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not if you want to find out how I got here.” The Doctor waggled her eyebrows, a grin spreading across her face as the woman sucked in a breath, nostrils flaring. “Oh! You don’t know, do you? That’s funny, seeing as this is supposedly your domain.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Beside her, the Master was watching her, his breathing heavy enough to reach her ears, his hands curled into fists. She could feel his eyes upon her, darkening with fury as he tried to guess the game she was playing, but she didn’t look at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Enough, Doctor.” This came from the man, who stayed slumped in his chair, though he eyed her warily. “What do you want?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me?” The Doctor rocked back on her heels, pretending to think about it. “Oh, I don’t know. Just to leave, I suppose. Get out of your hair. Except, </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> if you don’t mind—I’ll be taking him with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master’s sharp inhalation of surprise nearly had her looking over, but she didn’t. She kept her gaze fixed upon the man, who studied her with an unreadable gaze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” he said at last. “Ridiculous. The Master is here to pay for his crimes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh?” The Doctor raised her eyebrows. “I suppose you mean the centuries he spent conducting genocide across the known universe?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Beside her, the Master snorted. “Please, don’t undersell me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She ignored him. So too did the man and the woman, who scrutinized her for long minutes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, the man said, “You know why he is here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t even the name—it was barely a reference to what he’d done—but it knocked the wind from the Doctor’s lungs anyway, like it did every time, the sheer knowledge of it. The burning cities, imprinted behind her eyelids. The blood on his hands, soaking into her sheets.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” she said, cursing the way it came strangled from her throat, “and that’s why I’m taking him with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man’s eyes moved over her, milky and lucid, and it occurred to the Doctor all of a sudden that he and the woman had been in those bodies for a long time. The age didn’t really show on their faces, but it showed in their eyes, grayed over and rheumy, if still sharp.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s sentenced here,” the man told her. “He’ll be punished for eternity.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Beside her, the Master sniggered, but it was high pitched and stilted, and she knew his fear when she heard it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want him punished,” she told him. “I want him dead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master’s sniggering cut off like a stopped record. She didn’t look at him, but she felt his eyes boring into her, wide and astonished. The urge to laugh rose up in her throat, and she squashed it ruthlessly. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was funny, she couldn’t help but think, how surprised he seemed that she might stoop to his level. He had tried, after all, to rise to hers. It was only fair she returned the favor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After all, she thought, he who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She had plenty of pain to get rid of.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Death does not belong here,” the woman said. Her eyes roamed over the Doctor, scrutinizing. “Those incarcerated here do not deserve the relief. They suffer for eternity, Doctor. The Master—” She tilted his head towards him— “Did the irreversible. So too will be his sentence. Surely you can see that the crime fits the punishment.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Suppose I do, yeah,” she said with an appreciative nod. “’Cept I don’t care. This isn’t about what he deserves. It’s about what I want. And I want him dead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You want revenge,” the man accused. The Doctor turned to him, and for a long moment didn’t say anything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want what I deserve,” she said quietly. “And I deserve to never have to see him again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Silence fell. The King and Queen regarded her, curious and faintly surprised, as if they weren’t quite sure what to do with this information.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We won’t let you leave with him,” the woman said at last. “He is forbidden.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then I won’t leave,” the Doctor said. “Not until I get what I want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You must leave!” The man leaned forward in his throne, eyes blazing. “Don’t you understand that you’ve opened a door into this universe? Only you can close it! You have to return.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I won’t,” the Doctor said mildly. The man’s lip curled, and he opened his mouth to speak, but the woman beat him to it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You will leave,” the woman said. “You have no choice, Doctor. You will leave, and he will not follow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?” The Doctor raised an eyebrow. “And how are you going to do that, then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Easy.” The answer came off to her right, and when she swung around, the Master stepped towards her, his hands curled tightly into fists. He swept his gaze over her, his dark eyes seething. His lip curled. “I just won’t go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>—————</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor stared at him, stunned. It took her a moment to find her voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You—you have to go,” she said, cursing her stumble. “I’ll make you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?” The Master stepped forward, circling slightly, and she followed him, gaze fixed upon his, just in case he tried anything, even though she knew he couldn’t. It was instinct, instilled through centuries of rivalry and tricks. Don’t let him get the up. Always make sure you have the better hand. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Keep an eye on him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How are you going to make me, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Doctor?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He lent emphasis to her name, the way he always had, just to make a mockery of it. A Doctor with no patients. A Doctor who can’t even fix him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gestured to the man and woman upon the throne. “I mean—” he gave a small, apologetic shrug— “They don’t want me gone. They like me too much. Think I fit right in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took a step closer, and the Doctor took a step back. Keeping the distance. “You don’t want to be stuck here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t I?” He smiled at her, all teeth, and fury flashed up in her, settling in her jaw.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, you don’t,” she hissed, and this time she did the stepping forward, coming up close enough to catch that stubborn glint in his eye, the one she itched to tear right off his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had always been the more stubborn of the two. She’d used to love that about him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t,” she repeated, “and I can see it in your face. You know I’m your only hope of getting out of here. You know you can take the chance and kill me first, the second we get out of here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He cocked his head, and pursed his lips, playing at an indecision she knew wasn’t real. His eyes still flashed, stubborn and hard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I could kill you easily,” he acknowledged. “Even if you do put up a fight. But I still won’t come with you, Doctor. Even if it is my only chance.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hot rage welled up in her, and she resisted the urge to knock him to the floor, just so she could kick him while he was down. See how he’d smile then, with a jawful of broken teeth and leather.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?” she snarled instead, “Why not?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From the thrones, there came an indignant cough, but the Master ignored it. He stepped close, close enough that she could feel his hot breath touching her cheek, and looked her up and down. Then, he smiled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because,” he said. “You want it too much.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was lunging for him before she even realized what she was doing. He hit the floor with a yelp of surprise, or possibly pain—weakness, she thought savagely—and then she was upon him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Except she wasn’t. Before she could even deliver a boot to his stomach—which he’d left open, the idiot—she was on the ground herself, as pain rent through her mind, twisted her timeline to pieces.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Enough!” The woman’s voice came high and demanding, and a moment later the pain ebbed, only for strange hands to wrap around the Doctor and hoist her bodily to her feet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“G’off me,” she tried, but her captor—a guard, she could hear the clinking of their weapon—only grunted and wrapped their arms tighter around her. Wearily, she looked up and caught the stern gaze of the woman, the twisted scowl of the man.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You make a fool of yourself, Doctor,” the man said. “This is not your domain, and you will not remain here long.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Only if—“ the Doctor tried again, but her guard clamped a hairy hand over her mouth, cutting her off. From the floor, she heard a weak laugh, and her chest clenched with fury.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woman waved a weary hand. “Guards. Return the prisoner to his cell, and find the Doctor a room. Lock her in it. We’ll deal with her as we see fit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guard grunted and made a move to drag the Doctor away, but she bucked in his grip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oi!” she cried around his hand. “You can’t—I won’t go! Not without him!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master’s laughter grew louder, hysterical, as another guard yanked him to his feet. The Doctor began to scrabble at her captor’s hands desperately.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let go of me! I’m not going! Not unless you—“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But before she could finish, the guard thumbed a button she didn’t see, and the throne room dissolved into nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>—————-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They dumped her in an ornate room with a wide, four poster bed, and left her there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thought you’d throw me in a cell, if I’m being honest,” she called to the retreating back of the guard, who only shrugged without turning around.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You aren’t a prisoner. And the King and Queen haven’t forgotten their hospitality.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right,” the Doctor muttered. “Time Lords. All about hospitality. And I suppose you—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But she realized too late that she was talking to an empty room. With a thud, the door closed behind the guard, ensconcing the Doctor in silence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks for that,” she grumbled to the door, but of course, there was no response. She looked at it for a moment, lips pressed together, then glanced around the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was dark, but not overly so. Shadows curved around the edges of the room, and crept towards the center, but by the bed there was a window, and through it, light shown. Weak light, watery light, but enough so that the Doctor needn’t trip as she crossed the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She did so carefully anyway, and pressed up against the window, trying, if possible, to place where she was. Immediately, she saw that it was useless; the rocky plain outside could have been any part of the land she had traversed on her way here, and above the surface, a black, solid sky pressed down. She saw no creatures move about, but that could have meant anything; of the prisoners she knew to be incarcerated here, most didn’t have to exist in the physical world.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bloody useless,” she muttered, and turned away from the window. Her eyes landed upon the bed, neatly pressed and dusty, and she studied it for a long moment. Much like her bed on the TARDIS, it didn’t look inviting. The sheets here were red, the pillows thin, and the covers looked entirely unused, like a bed out of a museum.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But her feet were tired and her body aching, so after a minute she crossed the room and collapsed upon it, planting her elbows upon her knees and cradling her chin in her hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stuck here. No, she wasn’t stuck here. She could leave anytime she liked—she felt sure the King and Queen wouldn’t mind. But what did she care about that? She came here for a reason, and the idea of defeat sat sour on her tongue. To let the Master get away—to let him stay—placed an ember of anger in her stomach, the kind so close and personal that it could only be directed at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was only staying because he was stubborn. She knew that too. She had seen the fear in his eyes, heard the almost-break in his voice. Despite his bravado, his ability to revel in blood and devastation, he never wanted to be on the receiving end of it. If he had the chance to escape, she knew, he would surely take it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a huff, she fell back upon the mattress, sending plumes of dust into the air, and stared at the canopy above her. It occurred to her that she didn’t know how to make him leave. She wasn’t even sure how to get the King and Queen to let him go.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But she couldn’t let him get away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the darkness, she couldn’t really see the canopy above her head. Blackness muted the curves of the fabric, turned it into a blank slate. She stared at it, and let her mind paint images upon the blankness, spinning nothingness into images she couldn’t wipe from her mind no matter how she tried.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gallifrey, burning. The Citadel in ash and ruin. Billions dead, and she to watch it, the sole guardian of its sordid memory except for a lunatic who was to stubborn to know a chance when he saw one. Who was too stubborn to take it, only because it was her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anger roiled in her gut. She went still with it, her hands balling into the bed sheets, and sucked in a breath to resist the urge to break something. The Master’s ugly grin flashed before her face, full of smug vindication at his Pyrrhic victory, and she clenched her jaw hard enough to break teeth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She hated him. She hated him. She had always loved him, tried to forgive him so many times, held out a hand even when she knew he wouldn’t take it, and now he had destroyed the one thing that saved her. The billions who had died were an afterthought, in a way; she had been mourning them ever since the Time War. Such grief was old, and familiar, and never quite left. She had learned to live with it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But she had </span>
  <em>
    <span>saved</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d made it right. That was the thing. Her relationship with Gallifrey, her people, her </span>
  <em>
    <span>home</span>
  </em>
  <span>, was a window pane run through with cracks. When she’d ended the Time War, she’d put a fist right through it, and ever since then she’d been cutting her fingers trying to pick up the pieces. When she’d brought Gallifrey back, she’d thought she’s finally managed to patch it up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master had sent it all crashing to the ground again, and for that, she couldn’t forgive him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor swallowed hard, her hands still digging into the sheets. Vaguely, she wondered what she was meant to do now, after she’d dealt with the Master. She’s go back, surely, and pick up her fam, and continue on with adventures, but would it be the same? She couldn’t imagine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was the thing about home, she thought. You couldn’t just take it or leave it. It followed you around even if you didn’t want it, like mud tracking on your shoes, sometimes painful and sometimes wonderful, but always messy. Home was an entangled sort of concept, not really a place, but a gut feeling, like knowing you always had somewhere to go back to. Even if you hated it. It belonged to you, inextricably.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes, the Doctor thought, you had to go and take it back, even if there was nothing left.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The mattress creaked as she sat up abruptly, her hands unfurling from the sheets. Across the room, the door stood, darkly paneled and gloomy in the dark. She stared at it for a long moment, then slowly checked her pockets, just to make sure.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They hadn’t taken her sonic screwdriver.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She crept into the hallway as quietly as she could, only to find it empty. The door had been locked, of course, but clearly they didn’t much care about whether she snuck off, or possibly only assumed she wouldn’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Either way, it worked to her advantage. She stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind her lest they check, then glanced both to the left and right, trying to decide where to go. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They had taken the Master to a cell. She wasn’t sure what that meant—a cell could mean any number of things—but she figured if she could find a transmat beam, she could rig it to take her to where she wanted to go.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And the guard had dragged her in off the transmat beam from the left.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turned, and crept off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clearly, they didn’t bother with security around the castle, for she ran into no-one as she made her way down the hallways, and to the transmat beam. The transmat beam was empty as well, and she stepped inside with only a hint of wary smugness, before running a hand over the controls.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t have a key, but the controls were telepathic, which meant one could hack them if they were sufficiently skilled—which the Doctor was. It only took a second to sonic the physical controls, then all she had to do was attach her telepathic processes to the mental processor, and look for the holding cells.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is nearly too easy,” she muttered, then, with a quick look around, plugged in the telepathic coordinates. She half-expected the system to light up with an intruder alert, but nothing happened. It only booted up, then, with a quick swirl of molecules, whisked her off and into nothingness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When she reformed, she knew immediately that she was on the lower levels. The walls were of grimy stone—old school, she thought with a touch of amusement—and the ground was slick with slimy water that dripped languidly from the ceiling. On both sides of the hallway stretched rows of barred doors, made old with rust.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very classic,” she muttered, and stepped out of the transmat beam. The first few cells were empty, as were the next few, and the next, and so on. It didn’t appear as if the King and Queen kept many humanoid prisoners in the Underworld—or at least, not enough to stay busy. Then again, there weren’t many humanoids capable of the crime that landed one here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She found him in the second to last on the right, curled up on the damp floor. He didn’t stir until she stopped in front of him, her boots splashing in a low scrape of water. Then he looked up, blinking sleepily, and yawned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then he saw her, and grinned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doctor,” he said. “Rude of you to come here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up,” the Doctor said, and reached into her pocket, scrabbling for her sonic. “I don’t want to talk to you. I’m here to get you out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh?” He raised himself, wincing, to a sitting position, and that was when the Doctor noticed the fresh bruises across his face, the cut above his left eye. “Did you miss the fact that I’m not leaving?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course you’re leaving.” She pointed the sonic and thumbed the button. The sonic buzzed, but nothing happened, and she frowned. “You don’t have a choice in the matter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?” The Master raised a pointed eyebrow. “How do you plan to get through that door?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor scowled, and hit the sonic once against the flat of her palm, trying to jam it back in place. She tried it again, and nothing happened. “It’s—nothing. The sonic’s jammed. Give me a minute.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, sure. Sure.” The Master nodded wisely, and settled back against the stone wall, tucking his hands behind his head. He glanced once to her, then averted his gaze and let out a short whistle. “Well. This will be interesting. You do know that I’ll probably just kill you the moment you open that thing, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor scoffed. “Likely. You think I didn’t come prepared? I’m not an idiot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master eyed her, an interested gleam in his eye. “And what did you bring, then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not telling you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He watched her for several long moments as she bent to examine the lock—a far more complicated one than she had originally presumed—then let out a short sigh and leaned his head back against the wall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll never figure it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m serious.” He was watching her now, half a smug grin upon his face, the one he always wore when he was waiting for her to fail. “That lock is ten times more complicated than anything you and I have ever seen. This prison may look simple, but it’s actually—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ha!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door swung open. The Master stared. Then, he leapt to his feet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get away from me,” he hissed, face lined with fury. “I’m not leaving, Doctor. And especially not with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, you think you have a choice, don’t you?” The Doctor stepped lightly inside, a tight grin upon her face. “You think I care what you want? This isn’t about you. It’s not even about me. It’s about what you’ve done.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve</span>
  </em>
  <span> done?” The Master stepped forward, an ugly sneer upon his face. “Is that all? Simple morals justify your little jaunt into hell?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please.” The Doctor scoffed. “You know as well as I that this isn’t about morality. We’re long since past that. This is retribution. Payment.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Payment.” The Master raised a sardonic eyebrow. “Because of Gallifrey? You’ve got to be kidding me. You hated that place.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I did not,” the Doctor snapped, anger rising up in her. “And even if I did, it doesn’t matter. Gallifrey was our home. Do you even understand what that means?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t I?” The Master took a step closer and his sneer dropped, his eyes running over her for a long moment before returning to her face. When his large eyes fixed upon her, gone was the anger he had held only a moment ago. Instead, his eyes glittered with tears. “Do you really have the right to ask me that, Doctor? When you were the first to lay it to bone, without even considering the consequences?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Without </span>
  <em>
    <span>even—?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Without thinking, the Doctor shoved him, and immediately felt foolish—like a kid pushing a bully—but she was almost too angry to care. When he stumbled back, she strode forward, shoving a finger into his chest that drove him to the wall. “Shut up. No—shut </span>
  <em>
    <span>up!</span>
  </em>
  <span> You don’t have the right to talk to me like that. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nobody</span>
  </em>
  <span> has the right to talk to me like that. You’ll never understand what I’ve done, or why I did it. You don’t even know what it means to feel—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like you’re the last person in the world,” he said softly. She froze, finger still jammed into his chest. When she didn’t speak, he gave a small, tight grin. His eyes were still shining, and contrary to her expectations, he bore no anger upon his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t know what that feels like,” she whispered, but he only shook his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe if you’d bothered to ask.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stared at him, speechless. Then, she took a step back, her arm falling to her side, and shook her head. He was manipulating her, she realized. Trying to work his way under her sympathies, reach back to that kernel of friendship and twist it to his own means. She couldn’t let him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why would I bother to ask?” Her voice was coarse. “If you cared, you never would have done it the second time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He straightened as she stepped away, and ran a hand over his hair—grown shaggy with time and lack of care—then let out a sigh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe some things are worth doing the reprehensible.” He looked up at her and smiled softly, and in it, she knew what he was asking. Forgiveness. Friendship. As if he hadn’t just wiped out everything she’d held so dear that she had to keep it at arm’s length. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.” Slowly, she shook her head, and as she did, familiar fury rose up in her stomach. Because he couldn’t ask that of her. It was too much. To ask forgiveness of her, of all people, when she had never even managed to forgive herself?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had no idea what he’d done, she realized. No—who was she kidding? He knew exactly what he’d done. He just didn’t care.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” she repeated, and watched his eyes widen, his mouth fall open slightly, before it snapped into a hard, bitter line. “Never. I don’t care about your stupid secret, or the things you’ve found out. You can’t come back from what you’ve done. I couldn’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He cocked his head, his eyes hard. “So what are you, then? Not the paragon of virtue, I take it, judging by the blood on your hands. Same as on mine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I made up for it.” She could feel her chest tightening, hear her blood roaring in her ears. He’d always had a special way of riling her up, even when they were boys. “You can’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something flickered over his face, a flash of fury and then it was gone. His nostrils flared. “So that’s it? You get redemption, and I don’t even get a chance?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t want it,” she spit. Her nails were digging into her palms, her hearts beating fast. “Been there and done that. And you know what I’ve realized? You’re worth half of the attention I give you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something—hurt?—flashed across his face, so quick the Doctor couldn’t even be sure she had seen it. Then it was gone, engulfed in fury. He stepped forward, his hands in fists at his side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So be it,” he hissed. “Hate me if you want. Ignore me if you can. But you’d have to drag me out of here, Doctor. I won’t take my death at your hands.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor bit back fury, and opened her mouth to retort, but never got the chance. In that moment, a strange tingling swept over her entire body, and she blinked in surprise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What—” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master laughed, all of a sudden transformed. “Oh!” He clapped his hands together, and that was when the Doctor realized that he was dissolving into particles, and for that matter, so too was she. “Oh, I’d hoped you’d talk long enough!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you—” The Doctor lunged for him, why she wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter, for in that moment, the cell whisked away, and the world plunged into darkness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>—————</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She landed with a thump upon cold, rocky ground, and bit back a groan. Beside her, she heard a similar thump, and then a laugh. When she looked over, the Master rolled onto his back and let out another maniacal laugh. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, this is good!” He raised a hand, and wiped a tear from his eye. “This is absolutely hilarious!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor launched herself into a sitting position and shot him a glare. “Where are we?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master only continued to laugh, sprawled upon his back. “Oh, Doctor. You poor old fool. Did you really think that was my cell?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I—” To be honest, she hadn’t thought about it. In retrospect, however, it made a horrible sort of sense. “That was a holding cell.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They brought me in to be questioned about you,” he gasped, still laughing. “They were always going to take me back. You arrived at just the right moment.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The right…” Awful realization sunk through her. “This is your real cell. This world, out here. This is where the prisoners live.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, yes.” He jerked suddenly into a sitting position, and gave her an enormous grin. “Oh, yes, Doctor. This is where the wild things live. This is our domain.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He leaned back and looked to the sky, squinting. Then, abruptly, he launched himself to his feet. “Well, here we go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go? Go where?” The Master didn’t answer, so she scrambled to her feet herself. “We have to get back to the palace.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He snorted, finished brushing dirt off his trousers, then turned. “Maybe you do. I, however, have places to be. Now—” He gave a snort and a quick shake of his head, as if readying himself. “Tally ho!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And with that he was off, starting across the rocky landscaped though there was nothing in sight. The Doctor stared at his retreating back for several long seconds, then started to life and hurried after him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can’t be going anywhere,” she said as she caught up to him. “There’s nowhere to go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like I said,” he growled, his eyes fixed upon the horizon, steady. “Not for you, maybe. I, personally, don’t want to get caught by anything else out here. I have better things to do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like—” The Doctor cast a dubious glance around her, to the black, solid sky above, then suppressed a shudder. “Like where?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master snorted. “Wouldn’t you like to know? I—AUGH!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doubled over, and without thinking, the Doctor reached out, then snatched her hand back just as quickly, cradling it to her chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s wrong with you?” she snapped, covering her slip with anger—easy, always within reach—but he didn’t answer. He just stayed there, doubled over with his head in his heads, and let out a moan. Then he lowered his hands and straightened with a sniff.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bit of fun,” he said, and before she could respond, started forward again, though unease lingered in his jaw and the wrinkles of his forehead. “That’s what it is here, Doctor. Fun for all, in our domain.” He cast her a nasty, sidelong look. “Including you, hopefully.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t know what to say to that, so she only jogged after him, the quiet huffs of her breathing mingling with his ragged breaths. There was something odd about that, but she couldn’t put her finger on what.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Master,” she called uselessly to him after several minutes, cringing slightly the way she always did when she used his chosen name. “Can’t you stop for one bloody minute? Figure out where we are?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laughed, but it was hollow and void of both mirth and the satisfaction he usually wore. Instead it was hard and bitter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know where we are,” he said without looking around. “This is my place, Doctor. My own special quarters.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A bit of rock and dust?” she called to him. He shrugged. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good as anything there is here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She huffed in exasperation and silently cursed her shorter legs as well as his strange, purposeful stride, which didn’t seem to match any perceived goal. There was nothing in front of them, nor nothing behind. They weren’t walking in circles, or changing direction. They were simply…walking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You running from something?” she asked him. He didn’t answer, but kept his gaze on the ground ahead, his arms wrapped across his chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing to run from,” he forced out. His back was hunched, his jaw tight. Every once in a while, he flinched. “Just me, Doctor. Just me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay.” The Doctor eyed him uneasily. “And that’s why you’re all bent over like that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master sucked in a breath, his eyes fluttering shut, and let it out in a huff. “You should leave, Doctor. Run away, and find a hiding place before the horde of Travesties finds you. Or the Could-Have-Been King. I hear he lets his army loose to feed, every once in a while.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor glanced dubiously across the dead landscape. When her gaze returned to the Master, his eyes were still shut, and his lips were moving.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you saying?” When he didn’t answer, she reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder, yanking him to a halt. “Stop! What the hell is—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get off me!” He swung around, wrenching away from her and stumbled back, his hands going over his head as if to beat back invisible bats. “Get away from me! I didn’t do anything wrong! Ushas did it!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor froze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What did you say?” she whispered, but the Master either didn’t hear her, or couldn’t respond. He was trapped in his own head, playing out a memory the Doctor remembered very well indeed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’d been children, she recalled, with a slowly sinking horror. Children at play, and Ushas had done something rather awful—the dissection of a neighborhood pet, which she’d proudly showed to her friends—but when she’d been caught, it was the Master she’d blamed it on, and the Master who’d taken the beating. He’d cried for hours that day, and the Doctor hadn’t left his side once, and when his tears had finally dried, it was the Doctor who’d snuck out that night to get revenge on Ushas for her trick.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t, I swear—! Please!” The Master fell to his knees, his head buried in his hands, and the Doctor could only watch, stunned and reeling. Of course—if she had bothered to think of what might occur in the Underworld, she might have thought of something like this. But to see it in action was another thing entirely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Master.” He didn’t answer. He was too sunk in his own memories, gone from reality. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With one foot, she nudged him. “Master.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His murmured cries died away at the touch of her boot, so abruptly she draw back in surprise. For a moment, he didn’t move. Then, in perfunctory silence, he clambered to his feet, shoved his hands in his pockets, and took off once more across the landscape.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stared at him. “Wait—where are you going?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t answer. His head was down, his back bowed, his pace quick. She watched him for a moment longer, then launched into a jog after him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What was that?” she demanded the moment she caught up, but he didn’t look at her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A bit of fun,” he said, but it was curt and hollow, with no bite to it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A bit of fun,” she repeated in disbelief. “That was a memory. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>remember that. Is that what this place does? Makes you relive your memories?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laughed bitterly, then rolled his shoulders, bringing his collar to his chin. “As if it were that simple, Doctor. I told you. This is my domain.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, having a bit of trouble with that concept,” the Doctor snapped back. “You’d think you could avoid a few nasty memories, if that were the case.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t say anything, but shook his head, then stopped, his eyes sliding shut. The Doctor watched him as he swallowed hard, fighting back against something she could barely see. Then he gave another shake of his head and started off again, across the empty, rocky plains.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have places to be,” he said, though she hadn’t asked. A sheen of sweat was gathering at his brow, she noticed, though he made no move to wipe it away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” she told him. “Back with me. We have to get back to the palace.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He let out a huff of exasperation. “Are you still going on about that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” the Doctor retorted. “I don’t care what kind of games and torture you have going on here, Master. I came to bring you back. That’s what I’m going to do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You—” He stopped again and closed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath. He was shaking, the Doctor realized, the tips of his fingers trembling. She watched him, noticed for the first time the tracks down his cheeks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You aren’t bringing me back,” he finished, only to collapse without warning, his knees giving out like a folded chair. The Doctor caught him without thinking and lowered him to the ground, noting distantly that he was shivering uncontrollably, though it wasn’t particularly cold. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?” she said in frustration. The minute he was on the ground she let go and stepped back, watching his head thunk to the surface. She wasn’t sure he was even awake anymore. She stared at his prone form, watched his lips move, mumbling something only he could understand, and irritation rose up in her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You bloody, stubborn </span>
  <em>
    <span>fool!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” She jabbed him none-too-gently in the side with her boot. “This is what you want—for eternity? Are you really that stupid?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a long moment, he didn’t answer, except to let out a cry at something she couldn’t see, and curl in on himself. She watched him there, and tried not to think of his prone form after he had taken Ushas’ beating, so long ago. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, he cracked open one eye, then the other. Then, he groaned. “Bloody hell, are you still here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” she growled. He only sighed, and climbed painfully to his feet. Then, without further ado, he turned around and started off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come back with me,” she told him. He had slowed down considerably, hunched over and limping, though from what she couldn’t see, and every once in a while he shook his head, his eyes closed, and mumbled things she couldn’t quite make out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” he said, his eyes fixed on the ground ahead. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why </span>
  <em>
    <span>not?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she exclaimed. “This is what you’re choosing instead? You’re just walking and—and hallucinating!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Better than death,” he muttered, and when she didn’t reply, shot her a sidelong grin, a ghost of his former satisfaction. Then he turned back to the front, leaving the Doctor to keep pace behind him, staring.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was a pitiful sight. He weaved and mumbled and occasionally sunk to the ground, screaming and crying out over memories, most of which the Doctor herself remembered. She watched him as he fell, and watched him as, again and again, he climbed to his feet and continued on—towards what, he wouldn’t say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he was dogged, she could give him that. She watched him, irritation and anger mixing helplessly into a pity she knew he didn’t deserve. Because if anybody deserved this torment, it was the Master. She only had to think of all the lives he’d gleefully taken, think of all her attempts to save him, which had been ultimately thrown back in her face, and she knew. He deserved this. No—even more. He deserved death, and a brutal one. If she had the guts to give it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brutal, she wasn’t sure. Death, she thought so. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Death is better than this,” she told him after a long time of walking. He hadn’t said much in that time, but had grown considerably worse, weaving and babbling about nonsense. Occasionally she caught snatches of things from their childhood, but most of it was lost in the jumble of a mad man’s mind, uninterpretable to the world.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>However, at her words, he straightened slightly, and glanced to her. Then he grinned, wide and toothy and not all there, she noticed. His smile was present, but his eyes were gone, off somewhere she couldn’t follow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“On your terms?” he asked, and just like that, fury leapt into her throat, and she bit down hard on it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What does it matter whose terms?” she snapped. “Forget revenge, if you’re so bloody righteous. I’d do it quick, you know I could. Painless.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right.” He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath, nostrils flaring. Then he let it out in a sigh. “And then you can be rid of me. Forever.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I already am,” she replied irritably. “You think I’d come back here? Not for the life of me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t say anything to this, but only shook his head and kept walking, under a moving sky and over a dead landscape.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where are you going?” she asked him after some time. “If I’m following you, could at least know where we’re off to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t have to come,” he growled, and she raised an eyebrow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What, and miss all this?” She cast a hand over his crumbling posture, his weaving stride. He shot her a look, scowling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have places to be,” he said again, and turned back to the front, quickening his place. She huffed, but continued alongside anyway, though her hearts drummed with impatience and a wild, creeping uncertainty.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The landscape didn’t change for a long while. In fact, it wasn’t the landscape that changed at all, nor could the Doctor pinpoint the moment the change took place. She only knew that she looked up at one point, squinting towards the horizon, and noticed a dot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that it?” she asked the Master, who didn’t reply. In truth, she hadn’t expected him to. He hadn’t replied in some time to her questions and demands, and had only deteriorated further, stumbling and dragging his feet across a desolate plain, as memories the Doctor couldn’t place nagged at him, his only surrender the occasional shrieks or cries of anguish.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>However, they kept advancing, and as they closed in, the Doctor decided that she was right. The dot grew larger, and they stumbled to it at an achingly slow pace, the Master leading the way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are we going there?” the Doctor asked as they neared, squinting at the horizon. It was funny, but she couldn’t make out the insides of the dot. There was something off about it, she could tell by the way it irritated her time-sense, raising the hairs on the back of her neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Places—” the Master mumbled into his collar. His face was pale and drawn, his eyes wide and his arms tight across his chest. “Places to—to—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor frowned, her eyes still on the horizon. The dot—more like some sort of tear, actually—was closer now, and it rubbed at the back of her mind uncomfortably. She couldn’t place it. “What is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Need—” Every word of the Master’s was a clear effort. He tripped, nearly fell, and the Doctor almost made a grab for his arm before remembering that she hated him. It was only instinct, ingrained in her from childhood, and painfully free of the ax the Master had taken to their friendship.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Only instinct. She had to remember that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Need what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Need—” the Master gasped. “Need—to look—into—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor stopped in her tracks. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But the Master kept going, stumbling towards the tear, now not so distant. If the Doctor squinted, she could almost make out what it looked like.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And it looked like—it looked like—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The untempered schism,” she whispered. Stunned realization ran her blood cold, and it took her a minute to realize the Master was leaving her behind. “Wait—but you can’t—!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Need to—” the Master gasped, dogged and determined ahead of her, and she broke into a run after him, her hearts beating fast. She caught up to him and grabbed him by the shoulder, yanking him back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, you idiot—!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he pulled away with surprising strength and continued his trek forward, the untempered schism now clear before them. The Doctor didn’t dare look at it. Her skin was crawling just in proximity, her hearts pounding and her hands clammy with sweat. She could feel her time-sense bleeding around her, the schism greedily sucking it in, drawing her forward, and it was only with all her might that she held back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, sort of. She jogged up to the Master, and caught him again, this time by the sleeve.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop it,” she whispered furiously to him. “Stop it, you moron! Why don’t you just turn around? I can get you away from this, you don’t have to do this again—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why was she begging him? she wondered. What did it matter that he torture himself for his crimes, for all the people he had killed and the planets destroyed? He was a maniac and a murderous psychopath to boot, and he had taken her clumsy attempts at reformation and thrown it in her face. He deserved it. He deserved all of it, and more. An eternity. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He deserved death.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But the Doctor blinked, and blinked again, and all she could see was the eight year old boy who had looked into the untempered schism and ruined his life, and it was stupid and pointless and would affect nothing because she was still going to kill him, but she couldn’t let him do it again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Koschei—” she tried, but he just ripped his arm from her grasp and stumbled forward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get off me!” he growled, wild and angry and fearful because of course he knew what was going to happen, he couldn’t stop it, and yet on he went regardless. “I need—I need—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t need to look!” she caught up with him, made a grab again, but he just lurched away. “Don’t do this, don’t be stupid, it’s just some psychological—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Except it was real, she knew that. She could feel it on the back of her neck, whispering around her ankles, tugging at her coattails. It was real, and it was begging her attention, and she wanted to look, she wanted to look so bad—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master staggered forward, and the Doctor jerked out of her trance and lunged for him, but they were only a few meters away, and she knew immediately that it was too later. One last staggering step took him directly in front of it, and as the Doctor watched in horror, he tilted his head and looked up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment, he only stood frozen, staring. His mouth hung ajar, and his eyes were wide, trapped into place by the entirety of the time vortex flowing through his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, with a cry, he sunk to his knees.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor didn’t even think. She dove forward and caught him before he hit the ground, easing him down with the utmost care, until they were both settled, she crosslegged, he clinging to her like a newborn babe. He shook like a leaf, his eyes wide and unseeing, his mouth moving but no words coming out, and she could only watch him, trying not to remember the day she had done the same thing at the age of eight, trying not to remember when they had been friends.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>idiot</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” She swallowed hard, and hated the emotion that rose in her throat, because she knew that of anyone he didn’t deserve it. “Why can’t you just come with me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t expect an answer, but after several long moments, he mumbled something she didn’t quite catch. She had to lean in close to get the gist.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No—” He shook his head and curled in on himself, then let out a shriek. “No!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shh.” Without thinking, she began to run her fingers through his hair, the way she had done when they were young. “It’s fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not worth—” He was mumbling now, into her coat, intermixed with cries and shrieks. “Can’t die—not worth—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Her fingers paused, her eyes widening as she leaned forward in astonishment. “What did you say?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he just curled in tighter and let out another sob, his shoulders shaking. She stared at him, and without thinking, let her fingers run through his hair again, though she knew she shouldn’t. It was softening her, dragging back memories of their childhood and their friendship, and making it so easy to forget the way he’d trampled upon it. As if she could forgive him for so many lives lost. As if she could forgive him for Gallifrey.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She couldn’t. She would kill him, and if necessary, she would do it by proxy, or some other equally horrendous means that she would hate herself for later. But in that moment, he was eight years old and they were friends again, and it was all incredibly simple.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sat there for a long while as he sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, and when the transmat whisked them away, she nearly didn’t notice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>—————</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They landed in the same cell they had left, right down to the scummy floor and the gray stone walls. The Doctor looked around, disoriented, then extracted herself from the Master’s prone form and clambered to her feet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello?” She peered through the bars of the door—now closed, she noticed, which was certainly suspicious—and squinted, trying to make out any movement. “Hello?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, this is new.” A familiar voice croaked from the floor, and when the Doctor spun around, she found the Master sitting upright, running a disgusted finger through a small puddle of scummy water.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You,” the Doctor said, for a moment at a loss for words. “You—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t know what to say. That he had admitted his guilt? That she had held him in her arms, as if they were friends again, only she surely hadn’t meant it, and he couldn’t think otherwise? That it wasn’t fair, to watch him fall apart, when she had used to help put him back together, and he, her?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You told me you weren’t worth death,” she said wildly, and watched him freeze, his head still ducked to examine his finger. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Slowly, he lowered his hand, then looked up. “I don’t recall.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You do,” the Doctor told him, and swallowed hard, sudden desperation in her voice. “You told me you weren’t worth it. That’s why you don’t want to go back, isn’t it? You think you’re not worth it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he could be, she thought, her hearts pounding with sudden hope. He could be, and she could try again, because she would always try again, wouldn’t she? She had tried for Missy, and she would try for him, and if he died and came back again she would try for them again, because that was who she was. That was what they were. The fallen, and the one who would always try to catch him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master raised an eyebrow. A smile was playing at his face, as if he couldn’t quite believe her words. “It’s not a matter of worth, Doctor. I just don’t want to go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But—” The Doctor stared at him, speechless. She felt as if she were lost in a maze, stuck in a turn and unable to see the center. “But you said—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That it wasn’t worth killing me.” He was examining his nails, splaying them out and grimacing as he encountered dirt underneath. “I mean, you could try. But you won’t succeed, even if you manage to drag me to the surface. I won’t play your silly morality games.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re not games,” the Doctor told him, a flash of irritation rising up in her. “Are you thick? Don’t you understand? I could </span>
  <em>
    <span>help</span>
  </em>
  <span>—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master snorted. “What is this, a charity case?” When the Doctor didn’t answer, he clambered to his feet and stretched. “Oh, bloody hell. Can’t believe I’m back here of all places. You’d think—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re lying.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master stopped, and looked at her in surprise. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re lying.” The Doctor took a step forward, an ember of anger burning in her stomach—or perhaps it was hope. So often did the two intermix. “I know what I heard. I know what you said. And I could help you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master watched her, one eyebrow raised. Then, his face settled into a sneer, and he stepped close.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What you heard,” he sad, “was the pathetic ramblings of an eight year old boy, who didn’t know what life looked like. That’s not me, Doctor. I’ve changed. I’ve learned so much about life. How beautiful it is.” He grinned. “How quickly it can leave.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Disgust rose in the Doctor’s throat. “Stop it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh?” The Master affected a reproachful look. “Angry, are we? As if you didn’t know. As if you don’t think I’m worthy of death a thousand times over.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He leaned in then, grinning, and his hot breath touched her cheek. She wrinkled her nose.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m worthy of it all, Doctor.” His grin stretched wide and maniacal across his face. “I know exactly what I’ve done. So do you. So don’t kid yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He drew back abruptly then, and with a sniff turned away, leaving the Doctor to watch him for several long moments.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So that’s it, then,” she said after a minute. “You don’t deserve forgiveness. Only death.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master shrugged. “Would you give it to me if I asked?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor didn’t answer. She didn’t know how. She wasn’t even sure herself at this point, and despite herself, she couldn’t help the slow creep of doubt, climbing up the back of her head. Because he was right. One weak moment didn’t erase genocide. Nothing could.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not erase. But…redeem. It wasn’t the same as erasing, it wasn’t even the same as forgiveness. It was only the promise to keep living with the intent to do better, day in and day out, no matter hard it might be. To face the truth of one’s crimes, and live with them from then on out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harder than death. Worse, in some ways, then the fate the Master held now, where he would only rot for eternity, useless and unrepentant. What was punishment, the Doctor thought, when it taught nothing? Weren’t people meant to change, and to grow? After thousands of years, could the same hope be applied to her oldest friend.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t know. She wasn’t sure she could find out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t want forgiveness, do you?” she asked. Feeling out the words, gauging his reaction. Trying to see past the bluster and violence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In answer, he only shrugged. “What did you think, darling?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anger rose up in the Doctor’s stomach, and she bit down on it. “Don’t call me that,” she snapped. “And fine. Then that’s my only choice. I take you back, and I’ll kill you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master only glanced at her and scoffed. “Knew you’d say that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor seethed, but said nothing. He was riling her up, she could tell, and worse was that it was working. That was the thing with friendships turned rotten, she realized. Once you learned everybody’s buttons, you knew how to push them. The Master had long since learned her ins and outs, and knew exactly how to exploit her temper. And she, him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You would come with me, wouldn’t you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master gave her a quizzical look. The Doctor stepped forward, a mean grin creeping over her face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You would. You’re obsessed with me.” She searched his face, and her grin widened. She wanted to hurt him, she thought. Hurt him for taking away her choice, for forcing her to do the one thing she didn’t want to do anymore. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are, aren’t you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t say anything, didn’t even look at her. He only stared at the far wall, his fingers twitching. With every breath, his nostrils flared. When he didn’t answer, she scoffed and continued.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You said just as much. All you want is my attention, and you’ll follow me back up because I came all the way down here. You can’t stand to let me leave you behind. That’s it, isn’t it? You just—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“SHUT UP!” He turned around and shoved her without warning against the wall, hard enough to knock the air out of her lungs but not quite hard enough to injure, and so she grinned, victorious. His hands, pressed against her shoulders, were shaking, and his eyes tracked over her face, his lip curled in fury.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t know anything,” he hissed. “You truly don’t understand, do you? I know what anger is, Doctor. I know what hate looks like. I see it in your eyes whenever you look at me.” He paused, his eyes roaming over her face once more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think I’ve given up on you?” he asked. Then, he pushed away and stepped back, shaking his head. “No. You’ve given up on me. And you know what’s good about that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He spat on the floor, his saliva splattering into a slimy puddle. “I’m finally free of you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor stared at him, no words in her throat. All her anger had left with revelation, and now she could only watch him, stunned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When she didn’t respond, the Master turned his back and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. She watched him, and distantly, heard the clank of a door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Guards are coming,” she told him quietly. He didn’t turn around.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wonder who they want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t answer, but didn’t take her eyes off of him, until the guards flung open the door and dragged both of them out of the cell, and to the throne room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>——————</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The King and Queen were waiting upon their thrones when they arrived, looking remarkably bored. The guards wasted no time, but threw them both into the center of the gleaming floor and retreated, leaving the Doctor and the Master to raise themselves painfully to their knees.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, four’s a party,” the Doctor tried, only to falter at the stiff expressions that greeted her. “Well, not a good one, then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woman dipped her head. “We brought you here for a reason, Doctor. Now that we’ve shown you our methods here, we’d hope that you’d understand the wisdom of our decision.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shown—” The Doctor’s mouth dropped open. “Hang on. You knew I’d sneak out!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man coughed and rolled his eyes. “You’d be very foolish if you don’t think we see everything that happens here, Doctor. This is our domain. We have complete control. We could kill you, but death is forbidden in our kingdom, and we’d be loathe to allow it. However, you are not a prisoner here. You leave us in an uncomfortable position.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me go, then,” the Doctor said immediately. “With him.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” the Master growled beside her, but she ignored him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll take him back,” she continued, then hesitated. “You’d be smart to let him go. He’s not like the rest of the beings here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Beside her, the Master laughed hollowly. “Aren’t I?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up,” she hissed, then nodded towards the King and Queen. “I walked with him in his…prison. I saw his punishment. I saw him express remorse.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man scoffed. The woman raised an eyebrow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We find that unlikely,” she said. “You do understand that the Master is an orchestrator of genocide a dozen times over, Doctor. Such a person would be undeserving of forgiveness.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” the Doctor said. “And I’m not talking about forgiveness.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh?” The woman tilted her head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m talking about redemption.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Beside the woman, the man let out a barking laugh. “Oh, please!” he cried. “Redemption? You’re mad, Doctor. He doesn’t deserve it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not something you deserve,” the Doctor said through gritted teeth. “It’s something you earn, day after day. Anybody can earn it. It doesn’t obligate forgiveness. It only means that somebody—anybody—can become better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve tried this once, Doctor,” the Master growled beside her. She ignored him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man was busy giving her a look of utter disbelief. “And you think the Master has the capacity to earn it,” he stated flatly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor nodded. “I would lead him out. I could teach him. I’d show him how.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You won’t,” the Master hissed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You could easily kill him instead,” the woman said, but the man gave a flippant wave of his hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What does it matter if she kills him?” he said. “The point is he gets what he deserves. I’m not sure redemption falls under that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmmm.” The woman pursed her lips and studied the Doctor, before moving her gaze to the Master. The Doctor followed her gaze as well, and watched the Master stared down the King and Queen, his chest heaving and his teeth bared. He looked on the far end of the spectrum from redemption. He looked mad.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She swallowed, and turned back to the King and Queen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you let me?” she asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woman tilted her head, considering, but it was the man who leaned forward, his gaze scrutinizing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you leave, you’d go back the same way you came,” he said. “The door would close behind you. Such is the mechanism. You would never be able to return.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor didn’t really want to return anyway, but she didn’t say that aloud. Instead, she only nodded, her hearts hammering in her chest. She wasn’t sure if this ploy would work. She wasn’t sure if it was a ploy. She only knew that she would get what she came for, somehow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She, too, could be stubborn.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have an idea.” The woman smiled, wide, and unpleasant. “Why don’t we let the prisoner decide?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She glanced to the man, who seemed to understand at once. He nodded and looked to the Doctor, his gaze narrowing with cold pleasure.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” he said. “Okay. A proposition, Doctor. You can walk back, and the prisoner may follow. But only he may decide if he goes. And if you turn around at any point to check that he is, in fact, following—” he grinned, slow and cruel— “he returns to our domain. And you will never come back here again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a trick. That was the first thing the Doctor realized. No—not a trick, but a plot, to ensure that she would leave their domain and close the door behind her. Would they send the Master after her? She felt sure he would be given the choice. But whether he might take it—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She twisted around to face him. “Come with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master straightened painfully, and turned to face her. “Why should I come with you?” he spat. “So I can give you the pleasure of killing me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll rot here,” she told him, in a voice dangerously close to begging. “Nothing will ever come of you here. If you come with me—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He cut her off with a knowing nod of his head. “And if I believe you, and I come back with you, you either chain me to your pitiful life as tour guide of the universe, or you turn around and kill me in cold blood.” His face twisted. “You’ll have to forgive that I don’t fancy either.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not a ploy,” she told him, even though she wasn’t sure it wasn’t. Doubt was threading through her, slicing her mind into bits, and in the absence of certainty, she clung to her original plan. “It’s not. Just—come with me. We can talk, when we get back. Like friends.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Like friends, if they even were that, anymore. Perhaps it was time to admit that there was one part of her that had always longed for such a return. Since Missy, she’d forced herself to put the option away, to shove down that stupid longing, but it was always there, rising up in the most inopportune of moments. Like now, knowing she had to kill him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But if there was even a </span>
  <em>
    <span>chance</span>
  </em>
  <span>— </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master stared at her, and for a moment, something uncertainty flickered in his gaze. In that second of silence, as he gazed at her, the woman leaned forward, and clapped her hands once.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think it’s time to go,” she said with a tight smile. “I hope you’ve made your choice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I—” The Master opened his mouth to respond, but if he had an answer, the Doctor never heard it, for in that moment, she was swept away once more in a burst of dissolved particles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>—————</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She landed with a thump and a slight stumble on a familiar, nebulous pathway, with nothing but blackness surrounding her. When she looked up, there were no stars; when she looked to the left and to the right, she saw nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Master,” she called out, but silence cottoned her tongue, whisking away the words before they left her throat. Briefly, she wondered if this were part of the ploy. “Master!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There came no answer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor swallowed hard, settling herself. A deal, she thought, that hadn’t been a choice at all. More like being sent off with a warning, and a reminder that the King and Queen were more powerful than she realized. They could have sent her back at any time. They were only being merciful now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, they might be playing a trick. She didn’t put it past them. If she turned around now, she might truly be alone as she felt, and with no way left to return. Only an endless route up, and no hope left for whatever remained of her original plan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They could also have given her a chance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If she turned around now, she wondered, if she checked—would he be there? If they had given him the chance, would he have followed? She wasn’t sure he would. He did, after all, have nothing to gain, and all of his pride to lose. He had another potential betrayal he could shove in her face, another ‘look how I tricked you again, you idiot’. It would be just like him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But she had seen that flash of uncertainty across his face. She had heard his admission, under the untempered schism. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If he had chosen to follow her, and she looked back, she might ruin the one chance she had.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wasn’t even sure if it was worth it. But she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and looked straight ahead, into the blackness. Then, with only a moment of hesitation, she stepped forward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was worse than before, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on why. On the surface, much appeared the same; the blackness hadn’t changed. The path beneath her feet was soft and amorphous as a cloud, lending the impression that any moment she might sink right through. There weren’t even voices this time, though occasionally she heard the faintest, most distant of whispers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That had been fine on the way down; she’d expected to be alone. Felt it in every footstep, every breath which seemed to suck away into vacuumed silence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She just didn’t particularly want to feel it now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor shuddered and pulled her coat tight about her, trying in vain to keep out the chill. She couldn’t remember if there had been a chill on the way down. It would suit this place, she thought grimly, to change the nature of itself at will. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It would also suit this place, she reminded herself, to trick her into doubt, to sink every footstep and breath into silence, to twist her thoughts around every which way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She couldn’t give in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yet simultaneously, she couldn’t shake the silence from her mind. There was an odd, solid quality about it, as if it were a physical thing rather than a lack. As if, so thick were it, that any word or sound would be caught to hang in the air, lingering.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Except she couldn’t hear anything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Keep your head together, Doctor,” she muttered, and immediately felt foolish. Of all the things she might be bested by, it wouldn’t be a mind game. Not even one played by the Master, though he might very well have pulled a fast one. It would only be too easy for him to slip a glimpse of uncertainty into his eyes, to send her running off on false hope.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it might not be false, she reminded herself. After all, who knew him better than she? Who knew all the things he said, and everything that he didn’t? For all the hate he’d spewed and the rebuffs he’d made, he’d also expressed regret, and that was enough. It had to be enough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had to. The Doctor sunk her chin into her collar, looked down, and realized she needn’t have bothered. She couldn’t even see her feet. She looked up again, into the darkness, and didn’t even think about looking back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For the most part.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was the infuriating bit, though. The uncertainty. Might as well admit its existence, she thought, since it sat so heavily at the base of her skull. In the dark, there was nothing to do but doubt, and hope. Hope that she was right, and worry that she wasn’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And she was probably right—right? After all, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>him. Knew his pain, knew his darkness, knew his light. She had seen him at his worst, so, so many times. She had also been there to ease him into his best, and she had </span>
  <em>
    <span>seen </span>
  </em>
  <span>it. She had watched Missy change before her eyes. She had seen her remorse, and now, just for an instant, she had seen that same remorse in his eyes now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Things could be different. They had changed once—they could change again. If she held out one last hand, he might take it. Call her stupid, call her a fool, but if hope was the hill she died on, might as well be hope for her oldest friend.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Except, she recalled all of a sudden, Missy had turned her back in the end. She had abandoned the Doctor and stood with her own murderous self, which was a terribly incisive metaphor. After years of work. Years of hope. Years of a hill she had lived and died upon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What, she thought with a sudden chill, was to stop the Master from pulling the rug from beneath her shoes again?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was the thing between them. The Doctor hunched her shoulders and trudged forward, boots kicking through nebulous ground. It was always her, holding out a hand, and he who rebuffed it. To him, the dance may be one of death and destruction, but to her, it had always been redemption and rejection, the waltz of friendship that had long since ended even though the music kept playing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One step—lies. Two step—hope. Three step—betrayal, and the fourth they would break apart, only to rejoin for step one, because she never knew when to stop believing, and he would never say no.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe she was right to kill him. He deserved it after all, even more than he deserved an eternity of torment, except that she wasn’t sure she had the guts for either, anymore. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And that was the problem with hope, she decided. Once she felt it, it was so hard to follow anything else. She could drag him to the surface, but could she deal the final blow? She wasn’t sure, anymore. Now, in the swallowing blackness, she only longed to know that she was right. That he hadn’t been lying, that he wanted to give things a second chance. That he hadn’t given up on them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But she wouldn’t know until she reached the top, would she? And if she was wrong, it would be far, far too late.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A thrill of uncertainty ran through her, making her stumble. She recovered and kept going, but it lingered anyway, like a bee buzzing at the back of her skull. Digging, persistent. She tried to distract herself. She ran quantum equations in her head. Worked out a program to fix the custard cream dispenser. And came back to the problem, again and again. The question, aching at the back of her mind. She turned it around in her head, picked it apart like a stale piece of bread, examined each piece, even though she knew she ought to leave well enough alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was like him, in that way. Couldn’t leave well enough alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The facts were troublingly contradictory. On one hand—he had been determined to stay. To stick it to her one last time, even if it meant condemning himself forever. He had told her he was done. That he had seen the hate in her eyes, and called it quits himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But didn’t he know, the Doctor thought desperately, that love and hate were nearly the same thing?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the other hand—she had seen his remorse. She had seen his last minute hesitation, seen the way he’d suffered in that bleak landscape. He couldn’t want to go through it again. She had offered him a hand. He would be a fool not to take it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unless he was stubborn. And the Master, the Doctor knew, was very, very stubborn.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stubborn enough to stay? Stubborn enough to consign himself to an eternity of his worst nightmares?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t know. She didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She seesawed between answers as she traipsed onwards, never finding the final variable to slot into the equation. And as she walked, the silence encroached, heavy and impenetrable, and she tried not to count footsteps, tried not to think about how </span>
  <em>
    <span>there wasn’t anyone there</span>
  </em>
  <span>, tried not to imagine that she was alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She couldn’t quite manage it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Who was she, anyway, to believe him? When had he ever given her a reason to? Millennia of betrayal, of death and destruction and laughing in her face because he loved to watch her lose—wasn’t she kidding herself? The Master was insane, if not evil. The remnants of their friendship couldn’t change that. He had long ago chosen his path, and she hers. Perhaps it was time to call it quits, never mind if he followed her or not.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And who was he, anyway, to believe her? She wanted to kill him. She had told him in so many words, so many times. She had </span>
  <em>
    <span>come there</span>
  </em>
  <span> to kill him, because he deserved nothing else. Why would he think anything differently? A hand offered at the last minute could easily have been a ploy, and the only defense she had was that it wasn’t. She’d meant it, except maybe it was too little, too late.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Except—except—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That hadn’t been her fault, had it? It was always the same with them, the tropes played out and tired. She kept trying, and he kept pushing her away, before turning around to shove her to the ground. If there was a thread of friendship between them, it was he who held the scissors. It was he who had dug up the roots long ago, and now he had the gall to tell her—to tell her—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t fair, she seethed. He had no </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Throwing the shattered remains of their friendship in her face, and trying to pin it on her? As if he wasn’t the one who had threatened her friends so many times, who had tried to kill her, who had deceived and plotted and murdered over and over again, all for—for what? A childish play for attention?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No. It wasn’t fair. She pushed her way forward, anger rising in her gut, arms wrapped around her chest, nails digging into her biceps. He couldn’t do this to her. He couldn’t make her hope when there was none, when there was certainly a betrayal waiting around the corner. She knew him better than anyone, well enough to read his doubt and his insecurity and see right through it, to the lies simmering beneath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If he followed her, she would have been right. Right about the remorse, right about the uncertainty. It would mean that there was still hope sparkling between them. That he had decided to trust her with his life, and if that, then with his soul. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If he followed her, what could the Doctor do but try to save him?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which was exactly why he would never give her the chance, she realized with a sudden lump of dread.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She continued forward, and suddenly the silence was like a blanket around her, muffling her every breath. She strained to her something, anything, in the silence, but there was only the thick implacability of it all, the silence and the darkness and the strange ground beneath her feet, and she was alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alone, and a fool. Alone, and humiliated. She could almost hear his laughter in her head, see his smug, mad grin behind her eyes, glowing with victory. Her stomach twisted at the thought of it, and all of a sudden she couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the silence, couldn’t stand the doubt. Except it wasn’t doubt anymore, but a solid, settling certainty, thick in her gut.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She knew the answer, didn’t she? He had given her no real reason to believe. A couple words, a look of doubt—what were they worth in the face of a liar? And at that, one of the best, capable of deceiving even she plenty of times. She most of all, because she wanted to believe him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But how many times could she trick herself? she wondered angrily. How many times could she play his savior, when he’d never wanted that himself? Who was she, to think that she could ever, ever save him?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She couldn’t. She couldn’t, and he would do this on purpose, just like he would always do this, if she ever gave him the chance. If she reached the end and she turned around to find him gone, he would have won for the last time. His final victory, and all he had to do was lose everything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wouldn’t put it past him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So consumed was she in her thoughts, that she didn’t notice when the way began to lighten. The blackness receded, dissolving into dull, swirling colors, and when she looked up and around, she saw the non-reality she had seen the first time around, an indescribable kaleidoscope of a world she couldn’t describe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t look behind her, but the thought of it gnawed at her, deep and insistent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was close. She could feel it, the same way she could feel his lack, could feel the emptiness around her. She was so close, and yet impossibly far, because the way still stretched ahead of her, seemingly endless, and doubt itched at the back of her mind, and her stomach curled with panicky uncertainty, and she couldn’t lose, </span>
  <em>
    <span>she couldn’t lose</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not now. Not this time, not when she had gambled her last chance at ending him for good on the weakest of optimistic hopes. It was a game between them, yes, was always a game, but she had fallen for it anyway, his pseudo remorse and his crocodile tears, and now she stood on the brink of humiliation, his laughter echoing at her back, and uncertainty gnawing at her brain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She had to know. Stuff chance, stuff optimism, stuff her blind naivety. She was walking into a trap, and he was dangling a thread above her head, the final thread of their friendship, tattered and frayed. Reach the end, he’d slice it in two and toss the pieces at her feet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His final victory. She seethed at the thought. Anger curled in her gut, trembled at her fingertips. It was hate, yes, but love and hate were but two sides of the same coin, and she’d gambled far too long on the former. She should have long since realized that it’d fallen on the latter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She walked forward. The thread dangled. Fury rattled in her chest. In her head, she saw the scissors inch closer, and she knew, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that she could never let him win.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nothing left but a thread. If he was so determined to tear it apart, she thought with wild, desperate decision, then she would just have to get there first.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something tore in her chest right then, and even before she had the thought to do so, she was spinning around, her hands in fists and fury in her throat, on her tongue, eyes searching for the trick, the nothing she knew she’d find— </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master took a startled step back, his eyes going wide and his mouth falling half-open in surprise. No words came out. Instead his gaze tracked over her, stunned, his hands half rising.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stared, astonished. All her anger melted in an instant. In its place, utter warmth swept over her, like a hot breeze on a summer day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You followed me.” The words tumbled from her lips in shock. “You came.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He came</span>
  </em>
  <span>, her hearts beat joyously with the thought, and in that moment it was just the two of them, red grass and two suns and sticky-sweet childhood memories, and that was all they were.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He trusted me, he trusted me, he—</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master stared at her, mouth still slightly ajar. He shut it slowly, and then he swallowed, and shook his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I trusted you,” he said, and there was accusation there. All of a sudden, the Doctor’s hearts dropped. “I thought—“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait—“ Cold fear plunged in her stomach, realization crashing, and she reached out, taking a step forward. “Koschei—“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he shook his head again and took a step back, his hands going to his chest, and that was when she saw that he was fading, his whole body dissolving into mist.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t want to stay there, Theta,” he whispered, his face stark with honesty, his fading fingertips trembling. “I didn’t—“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Koschei—!” She rushed forward, tripping over soft ground, and reached him with her hands out, grasping for his lapels, but they only sunk right through, and she had just enough time to catch the horror and fear upon his face, and then he was gone, and she was grasping desperately at nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No—“ Her knees hit the ground with a painful thump, but she barely registered it. Around her, a silent kaleidoscope of dull colors swirled, and ahead of her stretched an endless, empty path. She stared down it, and felt something in her chest cleave cleanly in two.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“KOSCHEI!” she shouted into the silence, and nothing answered. Above her, the non-universe moved slowly. She was alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, bitterly alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sucked in a breath, felt a jagged lump in her throat and swallowed it furiously, because she couldn’t cry. Not for this, not for someone who had murdered billions of people. Who had threatened genocide, who had stood countless times against everything she believed in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Who was her best friend.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She drew in another breath, clogged with tears, and tried to think of Gallifrey, and her lost home, and all that he had done to her. How much he deserved what he had gotten.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t think of how she had been the one to give it to him. She only knelt under a kaleidoscope of silent, swirling color, and tried not to cry for someone who didn’t deserve it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead, she only cried for him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>—————</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doctor?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmmm?” The Doctor didn’t look up. She was too busy trying to unstick the zig-zag plotter, which had gotten stuck for the fifth time in the same amount of days. After that, she decided, she would have a look at the lights, which had been going blue lately, something she really didn’t like.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doctor?” Yaz said again, insistent. “Can I ask you something?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor paused. Then, she stifled a sigh and turned, shooting Yaz a stiff smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure. What’s your trouble?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh—” Yaz shifted uncomfortably, the way she always did when she was about to ask a question the Doctor didn’t want to answer. “It’s you, actually. You seem off. Have seemed off, the past few days, actually.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course. It would be that. The Doctor grimaced internally, and quickly weighed her options. She could lie, of course, but this regeneration was terrible at lies. She could go with the truth, but—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well. A modified truth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re right.” She sighed, and turned back to the console, if only because she didn’t want to see Yaz’s face. “I’m sorry. I have been off lately.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did something happen?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh—” The Doctor hesitated. “…no?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t going to work. She heard the exasperated huff immediately. “C’mon, Doctor. We know you’ve been bothered. Ever since you dropped us off that once time, you’ve been in a bad mood. Upset about something. And we want to help, if we can.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She hesitated, then added, “You can at least talk to us, if you want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor didn’t immediately answer. She stared at the zig-zag plotter, and tried not to think of childhood friends and broken promises, and trust, </span>
  <em>
    <span>trust</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I found out where the Master was,” she announced, in such a firm, decisive way as to make Yaz draw back in surprise. She recovered quickly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, really?” She stepped forward, interest mingling with worry. “Where was he?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In a prison,” the Doctor said shortly. She didn’t take her eyes off the controls. “A very secure prison.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” Yaz nodded. “Like Stormcage?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor shook her head. “Worse.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. Okay.” Yaz watched her for a moment as she stared at the controls, unmoving. “What was it like? Was it...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She trailed off, as if suddenly rethinking the question. The Doctor didn’t blame her. She didn’t think it was a very nice question to ask.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She thought back anyway, to that dead universe with the living sky and the hordes of creatures, and the boy who had stood under the untempered schism and seen the universe and couldn’t take it, again and again and again. She thought of a King and a Queen who had been surprisingly fair, all things considering, and she thought about a boy who had believed in her best friend, for a long, long time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was terrible,” she said at last, and felt Yaz twitch in surprise. “A really awful place. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” She could hear the confusion in Yaz’s voice, heard her trying to parse through the words, figure out the meaning behind them. “So you...went there to get him, then? Like, to get him out?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” the Doctor said. The zig zag plotter, she thought, needed to be fixed. She’d been meaning to get around to it. She’d been wasting far too much time, she thought, dwelling on sentiment and childhood memories. There were repairs to be done. “I went to make sure he’d never escape again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She reached out and jerked the plotter, with such strength that it came loose immediately.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>so my general hc is that the king and queen go by their titles, but have regenerated since and don't necessarily line up to the gendered titles. which is why i referred to them as the man and woman, and not specifically king and queen. the doctor doesn't know which is which, so neither do we!</p>
<p>kudos and comments appreciated, and thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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